Little Boy Lost
by Phx
Summary: When Fenton makes a bad judgement call, his family will never be the same again. If you are looking for Nancy Drew, she isn't in this story... Wee!Hardys
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: Language, angst**

_When Fenton makes a bad judgment call his family will never be the same again._

**The boys are younger in this story. Frank is 7 and Joe is 6**

**Little Boy Lost**

Chapter 1

Six year old Joe Hardy opened his eyes and frowned. _Was it time to get up already?_

It couldn't be. It was still dark.

The frown on his young face grew. _Then why was he awake?_

A nightlight kept the room from complete darkness, and Joe glanced around wondering what had awakened him. But not seeing anything of interest, he closed his eyes and sighed. He really hoped he had plenty of time before he had to get up for school because he was still so tired.

This year a 'bedroom clock' was definitely going on his Santa Claus list. That and learning to tell time…

The child had almost nodded off again when he heard something. Immediately he sat up and glanced towards his brother's room. Whatever that noise was, it had come from there.

Listening intently, Joe waited another moment. There it was again.

Hmm…that was strange. It sounded like someone was…_crying_?

Why would Frank be crying? Frank didn't cry. _Joe_ was the family crier. In fact the only time that the six year old had seen his older sibling shed tears was a couple of months ago when Frank had fallen off his bike and broken his arm.

Alarmed by the thought and no little afraid, the child pushed the blankets off his legs and climbed out of bed, cringing when his feet hit the cold hardwood floor. His slippers were supposed to be by his bed – 'supposed to' being the key words.

The last time Joe had seen them they were…actually Joe had no idea, as he hadn't seen his slippers in a long time – at least a day or more.

Silently the child padded across his room and into the small bathroom that the brothers not only shared, but that acted as a buffer between the two rooms. Each boy's bedroom had its own entrance but Joe knew Frank's door would be unlocked. It always was. Just like his.

It was house rules.

A safety issue, their father, Fenton, had tried to explain to them once over breakfast. Joe remembered chewing loudly on his cereal and nodding that he understood, all the while more interested in reading the back of the cereal box than anything else. For Joe it was just common sense. Why would he want to keep his brother out? He liked Frank.

In fact, Frank was more than his brother. Frank was his best friend. And he was pretty sure that the older boy felt the same way even if he never said so. After all, why would he? That was mushy stuff. And they were _men_. Men didn't talk mushy stuff…well, only with their mom. But that was okay because with Mommy, 'men' could be little boys….

Joe stood in the doorway and looked into his brother's room. Now he could hear sniffling. Frank was definitely crying.

"Frank?" the blond boy whispered, his voice soft and uncertain. "Is that you?" His seven-year-old sibling's room didn't have a nightlight so he couldn't really see his brother, though Joe was sure he'd be in his bed. Or at least he hoped so. And he really hoped it was Frank too, because if it were some monster –

"Joey?" A voice moaned and the child exhaled in relief, it was his brother.

Needing no further invitation, Joe flipped on the bathroom light and then moved towards his brother's bed. "You okay?" he asked, better able to see the older boy now that the bathroom light flooded the room. The seven year old was curled up on his bed, his covers strewn across the floor.

"Joey…" Frank's voice was more a whimper this time. "Sick…" he didn't need to say anything else.

Joe's eyes widened and he was out of Frank's room and running down the hallway like a shot, already shouting, "Mommy! Daddy! _Help_!"

It really shouldn't have been a surprise when the bedroom door to his parents' room was flung open even before he had a chance to open it – his father was an ex-cop turned investigator with _superhero-_fast reflexes – but it did. Startled, Joe yelped and stumbled back before he recognized the figure that loomed in the doorway as his father.

His father reached out to steady him. "Easy, tiger."

"Daddy!" Joe frantically twisted out of his grip, urgent to get 'help' for his brother. "Frank's sick!"

His mother gently pushed her way past his father as she wrapped a housecoat around her petite frame. "Okay, sweetie, okay." Joe grabbed her hand and began pulling her towards his brother's bedroom.

Only once she was in the room, did he let go.

"See," he said, as Laura Hardy turned on the bedroom light and they all saw the miserable, curled up figure of his older brother. Frank looked absolutely dreadful in full light and Joe felt his heart just about pound out of his chest. He lowered his voice and his bottom lip trembled. "I think he's dying!"

Just then Frank moaned something and Joe watched as their mother quickly grabbed a wastepaper basket.

A hand on the back of his neck had him turning and burying his face into his father's chest as Fenton crouched down to his level. "I don't want Frank to die!" he wailed, feeling absolutely miserable and terrified. He'd never seen his brother like this before.

"Shhh…" his father tried to console him, "It's okay, Joey. Frank's just a little sick – " The sound of painful retching had Joe trying to turn around but his father stood, picking him up as he did so.

"Daddy," Joe gasped, his own body starting to heave in sympathy as Fenton quickly moved them out of Frank's room. He could still hear his brother throwing up. "I'm scared."

"It's okay, Joey," the man repeated. "I know it's scary watching someone we love being sick. But everyone gets sick sometimes – and Frank will be just fine. You'll see." His brown eyes were dark with sincerity and he gave Joe a comforting smile.

"Frank never gets sick," Joe whispered, laying his cheek tiredly against his father's muscular shoulder. Tears stung his face as the man walked them down the hallway and towards the master bedroom.

"That's not true," Fenton corrected softly. He reached up and wiped away the tears on the boy's cheek. "He just hasn't been this sick in a long time." Joe felt himself being lowered onto the softness of his parents' bed. "Now, what say you stay here and keep me company for a bit? Frank doesn't need all of us hovering over him."

Joe felt his eyes closing even as he tried to protest. His words slurred, "'M not tired…wan' help Fr'nk."

"Shhh…baby," his father's words were soft on the back of his neck as he lay down behind Joe and pulled the child close. "You are helping…"

He wanted to protest – he wanted to be angry at himself for falling asleep but he was only six and he was really tired….

…

Fenton Hardy waited until the child was sound asleep before moving. He carefully slid out on the other side of the bed, repositioned the blankets over the little boy and then silently left the room.

Further down the hall, he heard another bout of painful vomiting and his heart went out to his ill son. Unfortunately a nasty case of the stomach flu had hit the boys' school so they weren't completely caught off-guard. Well, except for Joe's 'wake-up' call, that is…

That child certainly had a flare for the dramatic, and the man couldn't help but chuckle fondly. Joe had literally taken years off Fenton's life tonight, and the investigator could never remember moving so fast before. He had had no idea what was going on, only that something was threatening his children. And that had been enough.

However, those were a few brief seconds he hoped to never experience again.

Instead of going to Frank's room, Fenton went downstairs and headed towards the kitchen. He made a pot of coffee for himself and Laura and then prepared a tray with crackers and juice for Frank. He could already tell this was going to be a very long night.

A few minutes later as he hurried back upstairs with the tray, he wondered what it was about 2 AM…and sick kids….


	2. Chapter 2

**Little Boy Lost**

Chapter 2

The next time Joe opened his eyes the room was bright and – sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and then blinked hard – and not his.

It took his sleep-hazy mind a moment to realize he was in his parents' huge bed. Alone.

"Daddy?" he whispered; a fleeting memory of his father putting him here marked his mind. And then he remembered something even more important – Frank was sick. Possibly dying…regardless of what his father said.

After all Daddy was a superhero, not a doctor!

Scurrying out of the bed, the child threw open the door and raced down the hallway, terrified by the silence in the house. What if something bad had happened while Joe was sleeping and they forgot to come and get him?

What if space aliens had given Frank some sort of space sickness and then beamed him up to their spaceship, and took Mommy too 'cause she's a good Mommy and put Daddy in space jail so he couldn't save them, and –

Yanking his brother's bedroom door open, the child stuck his sleep-tousled head into the doorway, horrified of the carnage he might, or might not, find, and –

And saw his dark-haired brother sleeping, curled up against their mother as Laura sat with her back against the wall, one hand resting protectively on her sick child's forehead, the other lying limply at her side. The room smelled faintly of vomit but the little boy didn't care. _They were here_. He let out a shaky breath. _They didn't look too dead…_

"Joey?" his father's voice, unusually quiet, echoed up from the bottom of the stairs, "Don't wake your Mom or brother."

The child scowled. _Now_ how he was supposed to make sure they were alive?

But then his father's words – 'don't wake' – registered and he slouched in the doorway, relieved. They were only sleeping…and his Daddy wasn't in space jail. Good, 'cause it was just too early in the morning for him to have to save them all! Saving people was best done after breakfast.

Joe's heart was still pounding in his chest. He wiped away any lingering sleepiness from his eyes as he yawned and then scratched an itch. If this kept up, he'd be old before lunchtime. Maybe even teenaged!

"Joey?" his father's voice a little louder and more insistent this time called back up to him, "Did you hear me?"

"OKAY, DADDY!" he yelled back as he plodded towards the top of the stairs and hollered. "CAN I HAVE LUCKY CHARMS FOR BREAKFAST?!"

Once again his father's speed amazed Joe as suddenly Fenton was in front of him, whispering harshly as he crouched down and took the youngster by his arms. The grip was firm but gentle, "Joey!" For a moment the child didn't understand his father's chastisement and just stared at the man with wide blue eyes. "Keep your voice down, bud."

Enlightenment puckered Joe's lips. "Oooh," he lowered his voice. "Sorry, Daddy."

"S'okay, squirt," the man assured him as he straightened up and gave the child's shoulder a quick squeeze. "Wash your face and hands. Get dressed and come down stairs. I'll see what I can do about getting you your sugar fix."

Joe glanced back towards his brother's door. "What about Frank? And Mommy?"

"I'm sorry, kiddo, but your brother won't be going to school today, and your Mom was up all night with him so I think we should let her rest too, what do you say?"

He let his father usher him towards his own room even as he gave serious thought to what his father was saying. "Okay," he finally agreed, his young face solemn. "But only if you think you can handle me all by yourself." He was being very serious, knowing that his father didn't have as much 'perience as his mom, so he really didn't appreciate it when his father laughed:

"Oooh…I think I can manage one breakfast by myself."

Ten minutes later though, Joe's father didn't seem so sure…

…

"What does your Mom usually put in your lunch?" Fenton asked as he leaned over to look in the fridge. He could hear his son happily munching on a big bowl of way-too-sweet cereal and rolled his eyes at the food-muffled reply. "Don't talk with your mouth full," he automatically reprimanded.

He heard his son swallow before Joe answered. "A sandwich."

"A sandwich – that doesn't sound too difficult," the detective decided. He was glad there was no one around to witness how sadly lacking his skills were when it came to preparing his child for a day at school. Laura usually took care of these things….Oh well, at least Joe wouldn't give him a hard time. Now if it was Frank –

His older son was a good kid, but way too smart for his own good and with a memory like an elephant. Frank had a way of making Fenton feel inept at times, without giving him this as further ammunition.

Joe didn't pay attention in quite the same way…

"Frank doesn't like butter on his sandwich," Joe added, before taking a large mouthful of milk and then wiping his 'moustache' off on his light blue sweater sleeve.

"Oh, he doesn't?" Fenton feigned surprise though his older boy's dislike of butter was an already pretty well known family fact. Joe liked to remind them about it at every meal, though. The detective spied a small container of ham in the back of the fridge. He pulled out the container and put it on the counter. "How does a ham sandwich sound?"

"I don't like ham," came the blunt announcement. Now that one was genuinely shocking. Fenton wasn't aware that there was any food Joe didn't like.

"Why not?" he had to ask.

"'Cause hams comes from pigs," his young son informed him. He had shoveled in another mouthful of cereal but Fenton let it go…this time. Besides, he was interested in hearing Joe's explanation. "And pigs are pigs so they roll in the mud and mud is dirty and dirty is unclean and Ishmael says we can't eat unclean food 'cause we'll go to hell."

Okay. That was not what the investigator was expecting, and for one long moment he just stared at his son, stunned, and then managed, "Excuse me?"

Joe shrugged and stared down at his now cereal empty bowl. He still had milk. "Can I have more cereal?"

And in that exact moment, Fenton Hardy gained a new appreciation for his wife.

"Who is Ishmael?" he finally had to ask.

"He's the new kid," Joe said in that exasperated tone children reserve for a parent who has obviously been told something but has forgotten it. "Remember?"

"Oh yeah…._That_ Ishmael," Fenton recovered smoothly although he still had no idea who his son was talking about and made a mental note to grill Frank later; preferably once the kid's fever dropped and he stopped puking every other hour.

Joe picked up the cereal box and gave his father a significant look. Fenton was once again awed by the sheer eloquence the six year old could project with just a mere gaze.

"Daddy?" Apparently Joe took his amazement as incomprehension. "Can I have more? Please?"

The detective nodded and then turned back to the fridge. "Okay, so no ham. What about peanut butter and jam? You like that."

"We can't have peanuts in our school. Some kids are 'llergic. There's a girl – yuck – in Biff's class that swells up like a grape, a big purple grape, if she eats one," Joe screwed up his nose in distaste but his father had no idea which 'grossed' the child out more: girls or a big purple grape girl. Either or, there was definitely a common factor. Girls. He couldn't help but chuckle, wondering how long that would last….Joe mistook his humor and reprimanded. "That's not funny, Daddy! Frank says she could die!"

"O-kay," the man drawled out as he bit his lip to keep from laughing at his son's indignant tone. "No peanut butter then. Are you sure you need a sandwich?" he turned back to the child who sent him a disbelieving look and he amended. "I'm just kidding. Tell you what," he straightened up, "Why don't you just tell me how Mommy makes your sandwich and I'll make it the same way?"

Without missing a beat, his precocious child just deadpanned. "She makes it with love, Daddy…can you do that?"

Fenton just stood there stunned. Exactly what was he supposed to say to that?

_Sure son, just tell me where in the fridge your mom keeps that container…_

But before he could respond, a blond angel swooped down from the heavens (or the upstairs, whatever you prefer) and saved the day –

"Good morning, sweetie," Laura smiled as she came into the kitchen and stooped down to kiss the top of her baby's head.

Joe blushed and rolled his eyes. "Aww Mommy…"

"Hey, big guy," she reserved a more husky greeting for Fenton as she wrapped her slender arms around his neck and gave him a gentle kiss. She saw the container of ham and added. "Ishmael giving you a hard time?"

Fenton chuckled softly. "You have no idea."

"Oh I think I do," she purred, gave him a wink and then pressed past him and towards the fridge. "Can you grab Joey's bookbag from the side of the stairs and make sure he put his homework in it? I'll finish making his lunch."

She didn't even have to offer twice…

And Joe thought his father was the superhero.


	3. Chapter 3

**Little Boy Lost**

Chapter 3

"Go upstairs and brush your teeth, sweetie," Laura Hardy told Joe as she closed the lid on the child's Spiderman lunchbox. Along with a tuna sandwich, and a box of apple juice, she'd also put in peeled baby carrots, some cheese cubes and a box of raisins. Everything the energetic six-year old needed to tide him over until he got home from school later in the afternoon…

Of course he would be starving as soon as he got in the door, but that was what the small veggie tray and cold glass of milk that she'd have waiting for him on the coffee table were for.

"Awww…Mommy," the little boy dragged his feet as he carried his cereal bowl from the table to the counter. "Do I have to?"

"No, honey, of course you don't," his mother smiled sweetly but then added before Joe could relish in his victory, "I'm sure we'll still love you just fine after all the cavities come and take your teeth." She frowned and added thoughtfully. "It really is too bad that private investigating doesn't come with a better dental plan."

Joe's eyes grew as wide as saucers as he tore out of the kitchen and pounded up the stairs. She opened her mouth to tell him 'no running on the stairs' but then chuckled softly and let the little boy be. It was a constant battle with him to brush his teeth and she just hoped that he didn't become distracted somewhere between the top of the stairs and his toothbrush.

Glancing at the time, she saw he still had a few minutes before he needed to leave for school, and went to find her husband.

Normally she walked Frank and Joe the block and a half to the Hoopers' house where they would meet up with Biff Hooper, one of the brothers' best friends, and then let them continue on the next three blocks to the small elementary school by themselves. Bayport was still a fairly small town in many ways, which was one of the reasons why she and Fenton had decided to raise their family here.

But this morning Laura was hoping Fenton would go in her place because she really was still very tired.

Being up the better part of the night with a sick Frank had been no fun…for either of them.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Joe eyed his toothbrush warily but made no move to pick it up. Instead he scrambled up on the sink counter, pressed his nose in against the mirror and opened his mouth as wide as he could. Scrunching up his face and distorting his mouth he tried to see any of those so-called 'cavities' his mother kept insisting were after his teeth.

He didn't see anything. Well, nothing other than his tongue.

The child pulled back from the mirror and stuck out his tongue. He wiggled it from side to side and then tried to touch his nose with it. A kid in Frank's class could touch his nose with his own tongue and Joe thought that was the coolest. Well…he hadn't actually seen it himself but Frank had and told Joe about it, and that still made it cool.

_Frank!_

Joe had almost forgotten about his brother. Wait until he told Frank that Daddy had let him have TWO bowls of Lucky Charms!

Wiggling off the counter, the blond boy quietly pushed the door open between his brother's room and the bathroom, and then stealthily crept inside.

"Hey, Frank," he whispered loudly, "You awake?" He approached the lump of dark-haired boy and comforter, extended his pointer finger and then poked an exposed arm. "Frank?"

"Go away."

Okay, that wasn't exactly the response Joe had been going for. Obviously Frank was being a grumpy head this morning. However, he refused to be daunted by the lackluster greeting. Maybe Frank didn't realize it was Joe…

He poked again. "Frank. You awake? It's me, Joey…" he paused and added, "your brother."

This time Frank swatted at him, catching him on the leg.

"Hey!" the younger boy yelped as he jumped back, "Stop hitting me!"

"Then stop poking me." Slowly the older boy opened his eyes and untangled himself from the comforter before rubbing tiredly at his pale face.

"Okay," Joe agreed easily enough as he plopped himself down on the bed next to his brother. "Daddy let me have two bowls of cereal this morning. Two big bowls!"

"Don't talk about food," Frank groaned, curling in slightly on himself. "Please."

Joe gave him an appraising look. He had thought his brother would be a bit more excited for him but then decided Frank might still be sick. Who knew how long space sicknesses took to get better! "You done being sick?"

"I really hope so," Frank sighed miserably and Joe felt his eyes prickle with tears. He hated it when his brother was sad. It made him sad. "It isn't much fun being sick."

Without any warning – even to himself – Joe burst into tears and flung his arms around his brother. "I don't want you to still be sick! And I don't want to go to school by myself!" he wailed, suddenly overwhelmed. "I want to stay home with you!"

He felt his brother wrap his arms around his shaking shoulders and give him a quick squeeze. "I'd rather go with you," Frank admitted.

Joe pulled away, scrubbing the tears from his face. "You would?" He was dumbfounded. Why would Frank want to go to school with him when _he_ could stay home with Frank? "Why?"

"Because I don't want to be sick anymore either," the older boy admitted and then pushed himself off the edge of the bed to stand up. Joe moved out of the way and then followed Frank into the bathroom. "And my class has library today and it's my turn to be library helper." He gave Joe a significant look, "Can I have some privacy?"

"Okay," Joe said but didn't move. He still wasn't completely sure what 'privacy' meant when Frank used the word. After another moment, the seven year old just exhaled loudly, reached for a Dixie cup and turned on the faucet.

"Besides," the older boy continued after he swallowed a few mouthfuls of water, "it's no fun being home by myself. I'm going to be lonely…"

The little boy smiled. He knew it. His brother liked him.

"_JOE?"_ their mother's voice called out, _"Did you brush your teeth?'_

"Oops!" Joe grabbed the toothbrush and hastily scrubbed at his mouth with it, trying to ignore the look his brother was giving him. "What?" he finally asked as he worked up some spittle and spit into the sink.

Frank didn't say anything, he just picked up the tube of toothpaste and quirked an eyebrow.

Joe scowled.

"Fine," his older brother gave in way too easily. He was almost as militant about tooth care as their parents were. "But when your teeth turn black, Mom's going to know."

What was it with his family and teeth??

"Fine," Joe huffed out and took the toothpaste from his brother. He made a big show of putting a huge gob on the end of his brush and then scrubbing his teeth, again, almost gagging on the taste. Apparently there really could be too much 'whitening freshness'.

By the time he finished, Frank was making his way back to his bed and Joe frowned as he watched his brother. He really hated seeing Frank like this. It was just unnatural.

"_Joe!" _their mother's voice again_, "C'mon sweetie, Daddy is going to walk you to Biff's house!"_

"I'm coming!" the little boy called back but didn't move. He didn't like his brother being lonely. And then Joe got a wonderful idea…

…

Frank had just gotten comfortable in bed again when his brother hurried back into this room.

"I got something for ya," the blond boy gushed, his cheeks red with excitement, "so you won't be so lonely while I'm gone," and then before he could even ask, Joe thrust something small and metal into Frank's hand.

The dark haired boy looked down and his eyebrows rose in surprise. He let out a low whistle and then glanced at his brother, "Joey? Are you sure? This is your favorite car."

Joe nodded, his blue eyes animated, his whole body almost vibrating with energy, "I'm sure. 'Sides it's not like I'm letting you keep it or something….It's just till I get home." His smile lit up his young face. But then the smile slipped, replaced by something much more serious and he pursed his lips. "But _only_ if you promise to take real good care of it, okay?"

Frank ran his fingers reverently over the small die-cast dinky car. Solid black, the four-door 1967 Chevy Impala was his brother's most treasured possession – Joe _never_ let anyone else play with it.

He was touched, and swallowed back a sudden lump in his throat at the gesture. When he could finally speak, he was just as solemn as the six year old had been. "Just until you get home…" His dark eyes shone and then he grinned. "Thank you, Joey! This is sooo cool."

Joe grinned back and then bolted out the door before his parents came looking for him. "Bye Frank!" he yelled over his shoulder, "See you after school!"

The older boy barely heard him as his stomach took another painful lurch and he hurtled himself back towards the bathroom, the small black car lost amid the comforter hastily shoved on the floor….


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone who is taking the time to review :) You make my day! And yup, Joe's beloved 'Pal' is a shoutout to my other favorite set of brothers - Sam and Dean Winchester from 'Supernatural'. If you love the Hardy Boys and have not watched 'Supernatural', you have no idea what you're missing!**

**Little Boy Lost**

Chapter 4

"Can we get a cat?" Joe asked as soon as he came down stairs. His mother was searching through the coat closet for his jacket. She'd already found his sneakers.

"A cat?" she repeated, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Why a cat?"

Joe shrugged as he unzipped his backpack to check out his lunch, worried about what his father might have put in there. His face lit up as he recognized his mother's handiwork. Life was good. Now if only he could convince her to let him have a cat…

"'Cause I can't be a witch if I don't have a cat." It seemed obvious enough to him so he was surprised when his mother straightened up and gave him an odd look:

"Sweetie, boys can't be witches."

It was his turn to give her an 'odd' look. "Why not?"

"Well," Laura turned back towards the closet. "Because girls are witches; boys are warlocks or wizards."

"Harry Potter is a witch," Joe argued.

"Harry Potter?" Laura echoed and the little boy couldn't help but giggle as the closet seemed to 'eat' his mother. She was no longer in sight, her voice muffled as it resonated from somewhere inside the belly of the beast. His eyes widened. "Sweetie, you're too young to be watching Harry Potter…" Joe rolled his eyes. "Can you please put your lunchbox back in your backpack, and get your sneakers on? You're going to be late," his mother added.

"Okay, but can I still have a cat?" the child persisted. He wanted a black one – 'cause all witches had black ones – and even had a wonderful named picked out for it. _Blackie._ He was very pleased with himself.

Joe stuffed the box back in the pack, zipped it up and then grabbed a sneaker, hopping around the room as he tried to get it on.

The 'beast' apparently didn't like the way his mother tasted because she emerged rather unscathed and he decided she must be too sweet…or old. It really was a tossup.

Laura raised an eyebrow as he continued to hop around. He gave her a little smile and then sat down to undo his laces first.

"Frank is allergic to cats, remember, Joey?" his mom reminded as she knelt down to help him tie his shoes. He was much better at knots than bows…. She reached out and brushed an errant blond curl out of his face and he giggled. Her hands were soft and the touch tickled. "And that means no." She gave him a quick little peck on the nose and then stood up.

_Allergic?_ Joe's eyes grew wide as he imagined a swollen purple Frank and blanched. A grape would not make a very good big brother!

"Do you have any idea where your coat is, little man?" Laura pressed as he stood up.

"Ummm…" Joe thought hard. His coat…his coat…He knew he _had_ a coat…

"Joey," she sighed in soft exasperation, "What are we going to do with you?"

"Is there a problem?" his father's voice suddenly behind them startled the boy who ducked behind his mother.

"You scared me, Daddy!" he accused loudly and then blushed as he realized what he had done.

Fenton chuckled, "I'm glad to see your mother's wellbeing was the first thing you thought of…" he pursed his lips thoughtfully, "mind you it _is_ harder to do the protecting from behind." He winked and reached out and mussed the skittish boy's hair affectionately. "But I respect a man who isn't afraid of doing things the hard way."

"Awww, Daddy," Joe turned even redder under his father's teasing.

"Boys. Biff is going to be waiting, " Laura reminded them and then looked at Joe's father, "Have you see Joey's jacket? It's not in the closet."

His father opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the toilet flushing interrupted. Frank.

"Why don't you go back upstairs?" Fenton offered, already stooping down to pick up Joe's backpack, "I'll take care of all this and get Joe out the door."

"It's okay, Mommy," Joe assured her confidently, now that food wasn't involved. "Daddy's got me."

His mother looked at him, her blue eyes soft and her face crinkled in the kind of smile that made her look like an angel, and then she crouched down and pulled him into a tight hug. "Oh sweetie – you are truly a precious gift." Joe wanted to huff, pull away and insist he was a big boy and big boys didn't need hugs, but he didn't. Instead he wrapped his arms tightly around her neck and hugged back.

He was his mommy's boy…

And then she pulled away, gave him a kiss on his cheek and winked. "You have a good day, Joey, and I'll see you after school."

He nodded and then watched her go upstairs. "Bye, Mommy," he whispered, wanting nothing more than to chase after her.

"Okay, buddy," his father started and the little boy turned towards him, "No coat, huh?"

"I got a coat," Joe corrected instantly indignant that Fenton thought otherwise, "I just don't know where it is."

His father chuckled, "Why do you give me such a hard time, kiddo?"

Joe shrugged.

"All right. All right," his father conceded with a grin. "You have a coat…you just don't know where it is right now. Okay than, how about this one?" he reached into the closet and pulled out a dark blue jacket.

The little boy frowned, "That's Frank's."

"I know it is, but I don't think your brother will mind you wearing it for one day, do you?" His father closed the closet door and held the coat towards Joe.

"What will Frank wear?" the child demanded not wanting to leave his brother without a jacket. He might be only six but even he knew sick people shouldn't get cold.

"Don't worry about your brother," his father told him, "he isn't going anywhere today. Now come on, we need to go."

Joe still resisted. "It's too big!"

"It'll be fine for one day," Fenton assured him and then added, "Please, Joey?"

The child softened and huffed. "Fine." He took the coat, put it on and then gave his father a significant look as the coat hung on his frame and the sleeves dangled past his hands. Although Frank was only a year older, there was still enough of a size difference to notice.

Fenton rolled up the sleeves and then eyed his handiwork. "See? I told you it would be fine. Now grab your backpack while I get my shoes."

Reluctantly the child shrugged into his backpack and then waited at the door for his father.

They had just opened the door to step outside when the phone rang.

His father gave him an apologetic look as he hurried to pick up the living room extension. "Just a sec, Joey," he said as he answered the phone.

Joe exhaled loudly and leaned against the door jamb. He could tell by the way his father was talking that it was important but the child just wished he'd hurry up so they could go. The boy was anxious to tell Biff that Frank had a space sickness – and the cat.

Maybe he could get a cat and keep it at Biff's house. But then Biff might think the cat was his. Joe pondered that for a few moments until he realized he'd have to get Blackie a collar and put his name on it, and then Biff would never forget the cat belonged to Joe. His plan set, the little boy became even more anxious to leave.

His father was still on the phone.

Finally, impossible for him to wait another moment longer, Joe marched across the living room and tugged on his father's pants, "Daddy, I gotta go!"

"Hold on…just hold on a moment," his father said to whoever was on the phone. He put his hand over the receiver. "Joey, I'm sorry but this is very important…. As soon as Daddy is done, I'll drive you to school, okay?"

"But I want to walk with Biff!" Joe couldn't believe this. His brother was sick. His jacket was missing. And now his father wasn't going to let him walk with Biff? He felt like crying. "Please Daddy! I want to go with Biff."

"Joey…"

"I can go by myself," the child persisted. "It isn't far – I'll be careful!"

He saw his father's gaze flicker from the front window to Joe and then back to the window again. He knew the man was considering it and pressed. "It isn't very far. Only a little bit and then Biff'll see me. Please, Daddy, please!"

Joe held his breath…

And then his father exhaled loudly and slowly nodded his head. "Okay, Joey, this once. You go straight to Biff's – no fooling around. You got it?"

He couldn't believe it! His father was going to let him walk alone. Sure it was only a block, but still –

Beaming Joe nodded emphatically, "Don't worry, Daddy! I will be very careful and watch out for cars. I will!"

He wrapped his arms around his father's legs, gave him a quick hug and then raced towards the door.

"See you after school!" the child yelled and then took off out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

The last thing he heard as he bounded down the front stairs was his father's voice, "Don't slam the door!"

But it was too late and Joe was already gone….


	5. Chapter 5

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 5

Seven year old Frank Hardy lay in his bed and fingered the small black car his brother had left with him for company. Outside a rain storm pattered droplets against his window as the dark sky kept his room comfortably dim. He sighed and rolled on his back, leaving the toy cradled safely in his loosely fisted hand. His brother would kill him if he lost that car.

Frank looked up at the ceiling and sighed again. Now that the worst of the stomach pain had passed, he was left feeling lethargic and hungry, but he was too afraid to eat anything yet.

Closing his eyes he shifted onto his side and listened to the sounds of his mother moving around his brother's room. She was making Joe's bed.

The little boy opened his eyes and sat up. Slowly pushing the covers off his pajama-clad legs, he slid out of the bed and padded across the floor and into the bathroom. He grimaced as he saw the mess his brother had made with the toothbrush but decided against trying to clean it up – he was still sick, after all.

Pushing open the door to Joe's room, Frank stood in the doorway and watched his mom as she leaned over the twin bed and fixed the comforter.

"Hey sweetie," Laura smiled as she glanced over her shoulder towards him. "Feeling any better?"

Frank nodded quietly and slipped into the room.

"Can I get up now?" he asked, not wanting to be by himself. It was funny how lonely the house felt whenever Joe wasn't home.

"Are you sure?" His mother straightened up. Her pretty face was marred with concern. "You're still kind of pale, honey."

The dark haired boy shrugged one shoulder. He glanced back at his room. "I don't want to sleep no more."

"Okay then," the blond woman smiled and held out her hand, "why don't you come downstairs with me? You can stretch out on the couch while I fold laundry."

Frank nodded, flashed a smile and took her hand. Together they walked down the stairs. A flash of lightning lit the living room and the little boy paused at the bottom of the steps. "Joey doesn't like the storms," he reminded his mother.

"Good thing he's safe and warm inside the school now, isn't it?" his mother assured him as she gently nudged him towards the couch.

The little boy climbed onto the furniture and settled himself down against the plush pillows. Laura arranged a soft blanket over his legs and then gave him a gentle look. "You miss your brother, don't you?"

"Everything just seems so…" the child paused as he thought up the right word. "Quiet?"

Laura laughed. It was a musical sound. "That is one way to put it—" she gave him a curious look. "You don't have any idea where your brother's jacket is, do you?"

Frank pursed his lips together in thoughtful consideration. He carefully thought about the previous day and then nodded. "In the basement."

"The basement?" His mother sounded surprised and then she gave him a wary look. "Do I really want to know why?" The basement was where the washing machine was…

"Probably not," he admitted somberly.

"Humor me," Laura prompted, though Frank didn't think she sounded like she wanted a funny story. He opted for the truth.

"Biff needed five worms—"

"Excuse me?" his mother interrupted. "Biff needed five worms?"

"Yes," Frank nodded. "I told him three would work just as well but he never listened."

"Why would he need worms to begin with?"

The child sighed and realized he might need to start from the beginning. "See here's the thing—"

"Well hello there! How's my sick little man?" Frank's father asked as he walked into the living room from the kitchen and noticed the child spread out on the couch. "Stomach feeling better?"

"Much." Frank admitted and tried to get back to his story. "Biff found out that—"

"Laura, I'm sorry Frank," Fenton apologized as he interrupted again. The dark haired boy scowled and crossed his arms. "But I have some wonderful news!" He ushered Laura onto the couch by Frank's feet and then beamed at them both. "You are looking at the new official head of security for the Bayport leg of Congressman Harper's campaign! I just got off the phone with the Congressman himself! Wow. This is big!" Frank found it hard to stay angry at his father when the man had this big goofy looking smile on his face – although he really wasn't one hundred percent sure why….His father's new job didn't sound too exciting to him.

His mother didn't seem to agree though, and was off the couch and had her arms wrapped around his father's neck, hugging him. "Oh Fenton!" she gushed, "That is wonderful!"

She gave him a huge kiss.

Frank screwed up his face and rolled his eyes. He hated the mushy stuff. His parents must have noticed because they both laughed and his father reached over and mussed up his hair. "What do you say, big guy?" the man asked, "You proud of your old man?"

"I don't know," Frank admitted, weighing 'head of security' for some congressman (whatever that was) against 'ace detective,' catcher of bad guys. However, he was smart enough to realize that sometimes people did not want to hear the truth so he smiled and told his father what he wanted to hear: "That's great, Dad."

And his father saw right through him…

Fenton laughed a hearty laugh. "Who are we kidding, huh, Ace? It _is_ a good job but it doesn't have the same ring as 'catcher of bad guys', does it?"

Frank's jaw dropped open – _how did his father know?_

"Oh, I don't know about that," Frank's mother refuted as she stood next to his father and slipped an arm around his waist. She smiled up at the man. "What is the old saying? _You can take the politics out of the crook…but you can't take the crook out of the politicians…_"

The little boy had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.

"Now Frank, what were you saying?" his father encouraged, his dark brown eyes fully focused on the child.

"I was just trying to tell Mom why Joey's coat is all full of mud," Frank recounted.

"Mud?" Laura's arm dropped from around Fenton's waist and she hurried towards the basement door. "I'd better get the jacket into the washing machine before it cakes on! Fenton, honey, can you get some toast for Frank? He's got to be starving by now and I don't want to give him anything too heavy!"

"Toast, huh?" his father's voice pulled Frank's attention from his retreating mother. "I think I can manage toast."

The child eyed the man. "Joey said you let him have two bowls of cereal."

"Yeah, well Joey's a tattle tale," his father teased and then added. "You want to come to the kitchen or shall I serve it here?"

"Kitchen," Frank decided without even thinking. It wasn't often he got to see his father exercise his culinary – or rather lack of culinary – skills. "I want to see you cook."

Fenton snorted softly and shook his head as he headed towards the kitchen. "The lack of confidence this family has in my basic life skills is disturbing. I can make toast."

"Yes," Frank admitted. "But can you make it like Mom does?"

His father's steps faltered for a moment and then the man straightened his shoulders and bravely continued on his way.

Grinning, Frank followed. This should be good…

'_Wait 'til I tell Joey,'_ he thought to himself. _'He's going to be so jealous when he finds out everything he missed out on…!'_

Ten minutes later the smoke detector indicated that the toast was 'done'.


	6. Chapter 6

Again thanks for taking time to comment :) And as for why little Joe seems more cute than little Frank, I think it is just because Frank was a much more sombre, mature child, even at this tender age. He is old for his age but that is part of why I love him so much. He is such a nice balance to his hyper-energentic little brother :)

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 6

"Hey, Sport," Fenton smiled when he saw the little boy camped out on the living room couch. The child was running a small dinky car up and down the 'mountain' he'd made, his bent, blanket-covered knees were the summit. "How you feeling?" He knew the boy was bored. It didn't take an 'ace' dick to figure that one out.

"I'm bored," was the honest reply.

He crouched down next to his son. "What'cha playing with?"

Frank held out the small toy. Fenton recognized it immediately and he pursed his lips in appreciation. "Joey let you play with _Pal_?" Of course his younger son had named the car; Joe named everything.

Dark brown eyes met his as the seven year old nodded his head, his equally dark hair falling slightly in his eyes. '_Someone needs a haircut_,' the detective thought absently even as he answered. "He must have been pretty worried about you, kiddo, cause he never lets anyone play with Pal."

A sudden loud crash of thunder made the child jump and his gaze skittered towards the window. The rain that pounded against it had grown in intensity over the past couple of hours – as had the storm. "I'm worried about Joey," Frank admitted, his voice so soft and forlorn sounding it nearly broke Fenton's heart. "He doesn't like thunder."

He reached out and gently pushed the hair out of his son's pale face, "No he doesn't." He appraised the miserable-looking child and added. "You miss him, huh?"

Frank just nodded and Fenton once again marveled at the rather unusual sibling relationship his sons[' shared. While they did torment each other, and bicker from time to time, the children genuinely enjoyed playing together, and were each other's greatest champions. Frank doted on his little brother, and Joe's hero worship bordered on belligerent at times. It was really as simple as that.

But as much as Fenton envied his sons their bond, it was times like this – when one was gone and the other seemed lost – that he wondered if maybe their closeness held them back as much as it advanced them ahead…

However when he thought about his own relationship with his older sister, Gertrude, whom he thought the world of, he found it hard to think that you could like or love too much.

"Do you mind if I played with you?" Fenton asked. "I'm not your brother but maybe we can do something to help pass the time…"

Immediately Frank's dark eyes lit up and he smiled, wide and bright. "That would be great! You can't be Pal though," he warned, his tone surprising serious for someone so young, and Fenton laughed out loud:

"That's good, 'cause to be honest," he lowered his voice conspiratorially and leaned in closer to the child, so that they wouldn't be overheard, "I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of responsibility."

Frank nodded somberly. Apparently he didn't think so either. Fenton wasn't sure whether to be insulted or laugh. He opted for neither. "Good. So what are we playing?"

A brief flicker of lightning followed by another boom of thunder made the little boy frown, his interest in playing anything seemingly lost. "Daddy?" he asked and Fenton felt something catch in his breath, Frank had stopped calling him 'Daddy' when he turned seven.

"Yes, Frank?"

"Can you go get Joey now?" The boy turned achingly expressive eyes on him. "I know it's early but he's going to be so scared and I—" the child paused and looked down at the small black car, "and I want him here."

For one long moment Fenton couldn't answer. The words were stuck in his throat by the simple earnestness of his son's plea. School wasn't supposed to be out for another hour, but how could he refuse…?

Reaching out he gently squeezed Frank's knee and nodded, swallowed hard and forced a smile. "Okay, son….You just sit tight and listen to your mom and I'll swing by the school and rescue your brother."

The change in Frank was instant. His whole face lit up and his body shifted with animated energy. "Really?" His voice was incredulous, his smile wide. "You will?"

"I will," Fenton winked and then stood up, "Now comes the hard part, telling your mom."

"Oh don't worry about Mom," Frank absolutely gushed, "she thinks the house is too quiet without Joey too!"

"Too quiet, huh?" the detective mused as he headed towards the kitchen where he knew his wife was, "that's a pretty good way of putting it."

…

Laura glanced up from the potatoes she was peeling when Fenton walked into the kitchen. She gave him a smile. "How's Frank?"

Fenton leaned against the counter and crossed his arms as he watched the efficiency with which his wife wielded that little paring knife. "He's feeling well enough to want me to go and pick his brother up…" he waited for her to glance up at him and added. "Right now."

The woman raised an eyebrow and then snorted softly. "Those boys."

"I know…" the man sighed in agreement.

"So?" Laura pressed, deftly finishing the potato, dropping it into a bowl of water and then starting on the next one.

"So…what?" Fenton drawled out.

"So what are you doing here? I'd have thought you'd be halfway to the school by now."

The detective laughed, truly in awe of just how well his wife knew him…and her boys. "Just how do you do that?"

"Do what?" it was Laura's turn to feign ignorance.

"Know everything?"

"Oh sweetie," the pretty blond put down her knife and reached a warm hand up to cup his cheek. "I'm the Mom. It comes with the job." She gave him a wink. "Now go get my baby – you know how much he hates storms."

Fenton leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. "Yes I do," he whispered and then pulled away. "I'd better call the Hoopers and see if they want me to pick up Biff at the same time."

"Why don't I call them?" Laura offered, "You've got your cell, right?"

"Yup," the detective checked his pocket just to be sure. "Thanks, love. I'd like to be back before it gets much worse."

His wife agreed and was already moving towards the kitchen phone as Fenton walked out the door, and before he'd even backed out of the driveway, the order had been placed to pick up two small, blond-haired boys.

Fenton couldn't wait to see the looks on the children's faces when he showed up to spring them from school an hour early.

He'd get Biff first. And then really surprise Joe.

Ten minutes later though, the surprise was on Fenton.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Laura Hardy watched the family car pull out of the driveway with a growing feeling of unease.

Something just didn't feel right…

"Mom?" Frank's voice from behind her startled her and she jumped around then forced a smile for the little boy:

"Hey Frank, you're getting very good at walking without making any noise," it was a game that the boys played with their father at times. Fenton encouraged his sons in their pursuit to be stealthy. She leaned over and gave the top of his head a soft kiss. "I didn't even hear you coming!"

The dark haired child gave her a shy smile but didn't say anything. He was so different from his brother, the blond woman couldn't help but think, a much more quiet, solemn boy. "Is something wrong?"

Frank half shrugged as he chewed on his lip and it didn't take Laura much to figure out what the problem was. "Don't worry, sweetie, your Dad's gone to get your brother and they'll be back soon."

The boy's dark eyes flicked towards the kitchen window, a shadow of doubt aging his young face. "It's not very nice outside." A rumble of thunder punctuated his statement.

Laura crouched down so she could look her son in the face. "It'll take more than a storm to keep them away. Now why don't you help by getting the baby carrots out of the fridge? You know Joey, he's going to be 'starved' as soon as he gets in thru the door."

That brought a wisp of a smile to Frank's face as he nodded and moved towards the fridge.

Laura started to open the cupboard to get the small plate she used for veggie snacks and then paused, her gaze caught by the reflection in the rainy window. The reflection was of her with Frank moving behind her and for some unknown reason, the image filled her heart with an aching melancholy.

Swallowing hard, she glanced at the phone, as a sudden and powerful urge to call Fenton and make sure he had Joe overwhelmed her. But she didn't call.

Instead she dismissed herself for her foolishness and grabbed the plate instead.

They'd be home soon.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

The school receptionist smiled brightly when she saw the tall, handsome investigator hurry inside. The man quickly folded his umbrella and grinned. "So much for the nice sunny day they were forecasting… I think the weather guy is on crack."

The woman laughed. "Mr. Hardy? I'd ask how you're doing but I think you've already answered my question. Let me guess? You wanted to beat the 2:50 parking lot rush today?"

"Something like that," Fenton admitted as the woman stood up and moved away from her desk.

"Biff and Joey today?" she asked as she leafed through the attendance rosters, "or just Joey?"

"Double or nothing," the man teased, the smile dropping from his face when he saw an odd look cross the woman's. "Is there something wrong?"

"Uh… no," she looked up at him for a moment and then gave him a very obviously forced smile. "Can you just wait here for a second?" She was gone before he even got a chance to answer.

Fenton frowned, not liking the brief flare of panic he had seen on the woman's face… his concerns were substantiated moments later when the woman, Hilda something or other, returned, her face flushed looking. "You said you're here to pick up both Biff Hooper and your son Joey?"

"Yes," the detective's tone was clipped as he involuntarily stiffened. "I am."

"But Mr. Hardy," Hilda paused and then rushed out, her tone apologetic. "Joey didn't come to school today."

Six words.

Six little words –

And Fenton's life changed…

Forever.


	7. Chapter 7

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 7

Six-and-a-half year old Biff Hooper was surprised when the principal pulled him out of class early. He hadn't done anything wrong that he was aware of –

He was even more surprised to see his best friend Joe Hardy's father waiting outside in the main hallway.

"Biff," Joe's dad's wasted no time in talking to him and something in the man's curt tone made the child shrivel back in worry, "where's Joey?"

"Mr. Hardy," the principal, Mr. Manning, spoke to the other man. "Please. Not here." He glanced towards the still-open classroom door. "We can talk to young Mr. Hooper in my office."

_Where's Joey?_ Biff scrunched up his face as he followed closely behind Mr. Manning, glancing anxiously up at his friend's father. _That's kind of a stupid question…he's home with Frank._

The principal ushered them into his office and then instructed them to sit down.

Biff shifted uncomfortably, his pale blue eyes wide with alarm as he suddenly wanted his mommy.

"Biff," this time it was Mr. Manning who asked, "Do you know where Joe Hardy is?"

The child nodded his head solemnly.

"Where is he?" Mr. Hardy's voice scared the boy and Biff's chin started to quiver –

"He – he's home," the child stammered, his heart pounding in his chest as he didn't understand why they were asking him about this, or why Joe's dad looked so angry with him. "With Frank." He looked up at the investigator, and his fear solidified as he remembered his friend bragging once that his father carried a gun.

He actually jumped when the man suddenly spun up out of his chair and stalked towards the office window. He leaned over and put both his hands on the sill, his head hanging low. Biff could hear him taking deep breaths and was terrified that somehow he'd said something wrong and the man was about to shoot him!

His eyes darted frantically towards Mr. Manning. Surely the principal wouldn't let Mr. Hardy shoot him? There must be some school rule about that.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "Did I do something bad?"

"Biff…" The detective slowly turned around and faced him, and the child realized at once that the look he had mistaken for anger was something else. He wasn't sure what but it scared him even more. And if the look didn't, then the man's words did. "Joey isn't at home."

Biff blinked._ What?_

Fenton continued, his voice softer now as if he realized how badly he'd scared the child. "He left the house this morning to walk to school with you – just like always." A flicker of something that the child couldn't read passed over the man's face.

"Biff," Mr. Manning spoke up. "You didn't do anything wrong." His words didn't make the youngster feel any better.

"But…" he looked from one man to the other, "but he didn't! I waited! I did," he felt stomach-sick and his words were a rush, "really I did but he never came and it was getting dark and I knew it was going to rain and I was cold and I didn't want to be late so I thought he got sick too and I went to school!"

"Whoa, easy Biff." The principal moved to crouch in front of the increasingly distraught child. "It's okay. Biff. It's okay."

Behind him, Joe's dad didn't say anything.

Biff shook his head, tears now streaming down his pale face. "How can it be?" he sobbed, "Where's Joey?" He buried his face into the principal's shoulder, desperate for someone to make this all better.

He felt another hand, a large warm one, on his shoulder and then heard his best friend's father as that hand gave a gentle squeeze. "That's what I'm going to find out."

Biff was so upset he never heard the detective leave.

…

Fenton Hardy didn't feel the freezing cold rain that slapped him in the face as he left the building. He didn't care about the puddles that splashed and soaked his nicely tailored pants. And he certainly couldn't have cared less at how badly his hands trembled as they fought to unlock the car door. His world had narrowed down to a horrifying reality – his six year old little boy was missing.

He was supposed to have walked Joe to Biff's house, or driven him after his 'important' phone call. But he hadn't, and now his baby had disappeared…

Horrified shock warred with agonizing disbelief as the man sat in his car and just stared at the rain-smeared windshield.

_This can't be happening…this can't be happening…_

He couldn't think.

He could barely breathe.

It was as if the world had just suddenly slowed down and he had no idea what to do next – where to begin…

And then his cell phone started to ring and the world sped up again.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Laura couldn't wait any longer.

She and Frank had prepared a small veggie plate for Joe, and after spreading the snack out on the coffee table, she'd gone to the living room and glanced out. Wordlessly Frank had followed her, and the woman couldn't help but smile down fondly at her dark haired shadow as he stood beside her in the window. "What a pair we make, huh?" she teased as she lightly rested an arm across his thin shoulders and drew him close.

The child shivered next to her. His voice when he spoke echoed her sentiments and bled the same worry, "They should have been back already…"

The blond woman wrapped her arms a little more tightly around her child. "It's okay, sweetie….Look at all that rain, the roads are going to be nasty so we need to give them some extra time." She wasn't sure exactly which one of them she was trying to make feel better.

It was hard to say if Frank believed her but he didn't say anything else for a few minutes. He just stood with her and stared out the window at the empty driveway.

They both flinched when another loud rumble of thunder echoed through the house.

Laura heard a car coming down their street and then sighed in disappointment when it wasn't Fenton. Her growing anxiety made her nauseous and when Frank softly whispered, "Mommy, where are they?" her resolve to be strong broke. She needed to talk to Fenton. To confirm that he had picked up Joe and that there was some perfectly good reason why they weren't home yet –

Especially since Fenton knew how much Frank was missing his brother…

"Why don't I call your Daddy's cell?" she offered and then gave a small start in surprise when Frank practically pushed her towards the phone.

"Please, Mommy, please! Call him." If she hadn't been worried before, she would have been now, as Frank was uncharacteristically anxious. He was her calm child…

Picking up the phone, Laura dialed Fenton's cell phone and then waited for the call to go through.

One ring –

_C'mon Fenton, pick up._

Two rings –

_Honey, c'mon, please…_

Three rings –

_Damnit! Pick up! Pick up!_

Four rings –

_Hi, you've reached Fenton Hardy. I'm not available to come to the phone right now…_

Laura slammed down the phone.

"Mommy?"

She turned towards Frank and had absolutely no answer for him.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Fenton held the cell phone in his hand as it rang but he never answered it….He knew it was Laura and he knew what she wanted, but he still couldn't answer it.

"I'm sorry, honey," he whispered, tears burning his cheeks as he waited until the call went to voice mail. He started the engine, put the car in drive and pulled away from the school.

As he drove, he dialed 911 and did the second hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his life: he reported that his six year old never arrived at school today –

And then when he pulled into the driveway of his nice home – its lights burning brightly against the dark stormy afternoon – he prepared to do the hardest thing: he had to tell Laura and Frank that Joe was missing. That their little boy was lost…

"Please God," he prayed as he pressed his forehead against the top of the steering wheel. "Give me the strength to do this."

In the distance Fenton could already hear the police sirens racing towards Elm and High Streets and knew he needed to go inside now. Lifting his head, he pushed open the door and got out of the car. He barely made it to the bottom of the steps when the front door flew open and Laura was standing in the doorway, the small figure of Frank pressed in close behind her.

Fenton looked up at her, oblivious to the rain soaking him. His eyes held an apology.

She stared at him for a moment and then glanced towards the car.

"Joey?" she asked.

The man slowly climbed the stairs towards her.

"No," the woman shook her head and backed up a bit. Panic flooded her features as she repeated. "No."

"Daddy," Frank tried to push past his mother but Laura wouldn't let him. "Where's Joey?"

For some reason it was easier to face the child – and Fenton felt heartsick for that. He tried to be gentle. "Joey's not here…" He stood in front of his family and added. "I'm sorry."

All the color drained from Laura's face as her hand flew to her mouth and she looked like she was going to be sick.

"Then where is he?" Frank demanded; the pure childish innocence in his question seared the man's heart; it tore at everything Fenton had. "He – ah," he swallowed hard but before he could answer the child interrupted:

"Daddy? Are those police sirens?"

Taking a deep breath Fenton faced Laura and as the first patrol car pulled up outside the Hardy house, he admitted. "Joey never made it to school…"

Six words.

Six more words –

And Laura and Frank's lives changed…

Forever.


	8. Chapter 8

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 8

Frank was confused. _What did Dad mean that Joey never made it to school? Where else would he go?_

He opened his mouth to voice that exact sentiment when a police car – lights flashing and siren blaring – pulled into the driveway and parked behind his father's car.

The little boy's mouth dropped open. _Wow! Cool!_

"Laura," the guilt-laced tone in his father's voice made the child look up at the man; his attention was now divided between his parents and the two police officers getting out of their patrol car and approaching the house. "I'm sorry…"

_Sorry?_ _Why was his father apologizing again? _Frank realized he must have missed something. "Daddy?" he frowned and repeated, "Where's Joey?" _Maybe he stayed at Biff's to play…_

His father's eyes shone brightly and Frank could see the lump on the man's throat wobble before he admitted. "I don't know, Frank—"

"Mr. Hardy?" one of the police officers, an older man with light brown hair, addressed Frank's father as he stepped onto the porch and out of the heavy rain, "I'm Officer Ezra Collig with the Bayport Police." He gave the little boy a quizzical glance, "You reported your son missing?"

His mom made an odd noise and pulled Frank close to her, her touch possessive and unusually rough. _Missing? I'm not missing—_

"Not Frank," Fenton immediately corrected. He cleared his throat and faced the officer, "my younger son, Joey… he was supposed to meet up with his friend a block away so they could walk to school together—" the man roughly wiped at his eyes, "but he never showed."

"Fenton?" his mother's grip unconsciously tightened on Frank but he didn't pull away. He was no longer even remotely interested in the police officers anymore. "Didn't you walk him to Biff's?" Her voice was soft and quivered slightly at the end.

Frank looked at his father expectantly. Of course he did. His dad wouldn't let a little kid like Joey walk by himself. Now if it were Frank—

"I was going to," the man said quietly, "but then the phone rang. It was the Congressman," he added as if that somehow made this better. Whatever this was, Frank still wasn't completely sure. He couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that his father didn't know where his brother was – his Dad was a superhero…

Superheroes didn't lose little boys.

Another crack of thunder made Frank shiver.

"The phone rang?" his mother's voice rang with a horrified disbelief. "Please Fenton…tell me that you didn't let him go by himself. _Please!"_

Tears welled up in Frank's eyes at the desperate pleading and he sniffled hard. They were scaring him—

All he wanted was Joe.

"Laura," the word was choked but the police officer interrupted before Frank's dad could say anything else.

"Excuse me. I hate to interrupt," he actually did sound apologetic, "but we need a recent picture and complete description of what the child – _Joey_?" All three Hardys nodded, "What Joey was wearing, and the route he would have taken so we can start looking for him."

An incomprehensible looked passed between Frank's parents and then Fenton focused on the officer. "Of course…I'm sorry, Officer Collig wasn't it? Please come inside."

Frank was gently pulled out of the doorway and then his mother crouched down in front of him, and he was shocked by the look on her face. Her normally vivid blue eyes were suspiciously bright and her smile strained. The child reached out a hand to touch her pale cheek; something stirred deep in his belly and he needed to take that look off her face….It wasn't right for his mother to look so scared. "Don't worry, Mommy," he assured her, "Everything'll be okay."

A single tear slipped down Laura's face and she closed her eyes and swallowed hard for a second before grabbing and pulling him tightly against her.

"Oh, baby," she murmured, a sob.

The seven year old pulled away, "Daddy'll find him – you just wait and see. I know he will."

"Frank…" Laura started and then stopped. She looked at him and he nodded resolutely:

"He will."

The sound of the phone ringing had his mother on her feet. She gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head. "Go play in your room, sweetie…" She reached for the living room phone and then paused as she lifted it to her ear. "Thank you," she mouthed and then turned away.

Frank listened for a few moments, his hope soaring that it was Joe calling to tell them a big exciting story about why he didn't go to school today. And then sighed loudly when he realized it was just Biff's mom, and from his mother's dropped shoulders and dejected look on her face, he knew she didn't know where Joe was either…

_Good thing_, he decided as he slowly went up the stairs, _that Daddy's gonna find Joey… _he paused outside his brother's room door as he walked down the hallway… '_cause I want him home._

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Officer Ezra Collig felt horrible for the young family standing in front of him. He could see that the mother, a pretty, petite blond, was barely keeping it together as she tried to remember what her son had been wearing when he left the house, while the father, a tall and dignified-looking man, paced behind them, frantically thumbing through his digital phone for a good picture of the missing child.

There was something familiar about the man but Ezra couldn't put his finger on it yet.

"Blue jeans, light blue sweater—" the woman stalled, panic crossing her face. "I can't – I can't remember…" She looked at her husband, her eyes wide as she wrung her hands. "Fenton. I can't remember!"

"Laura," the husband's voice was achingly gentle. "He dressed himself…you were with Frank. Our older son was stomach sick last night," the man explained needlessly and then it clicked for the cop – he'd seen the guy around the station from time to time. If memory served him correctly, he was a P.I. or something. The man continued to speak, "We couldn't find Joey's coat so he left wearing his brother's. It's dark blue with rolled-up sleeves—" Fenton's face took on a pained look and he glanced away for a moment before speaking again. His voice was quiet. "I rolled them up so he wouldn't trip over them."

"What about shoes?" Ezra pressed, trying to balance compassion with urgency. "What was he wearing on his feet?"

"White sneakers with Batman on the side," Laura spoke up and then gave him a sad smile, "they're his favorites."

"Aha," Fenton blurted out, his attention once again on the camera, "I've got the perfect picture – I'll be right back," and left the room to make copies.

The other officer who had arrived with Collig finally came into the house. He'd run a quick check to see if any 'persons of interest' had been spotted in the area and gave a curt shake of his head when Ezra caught his gaze. His search had come up empty.

That was both good and bad.

Ezra moved to excuse himself so he could fill his partner in when Laura reached out and touched his arm, stopping him.

"Please," she asked, "find him – he doesn't like storms."

Behind them, Fenton came back into the kitchen and handed Collig the pictures.

"Thank you," the cop said and then looked intently at Laura, "We'll do everything we can to find your little boy." He gave her what he hoped was an assuring smile, "I promise."

Her appreciation was palpable. And without another word, the two police officers left the kitchen. They had a little boy to find.

As he walked towards the front door, Officer Collig looked down at the smiling face of an angelic little blond-haired boy in the picture and memorized his face. He hoped the child beat the odds but deep down, he just wasn't so sure. Most kids who vanished stayed gone.

"Hold up," the father's voice stopped him on the top of the porch. The rain had finally started to lighten up but it was still a miserable night.

Ezra turned to see the detective putting on his coat as he crossed the distance between them. "I need to help. I have to find him."

The cop opened his mouth to protest and give the standard line about staying home and sticking close to the phone, but one look at the determined man's face, _and_ the knowledge that Fenton was a trained investigator, waived his protest. "Fine," he stated, "But if you interfere in any way—"

"Don't worry about me," Fenton vowed and then stopped and turned back to the house. Laura had followed him to the door and was standing there. "Laura…" he started but his wife cut him off:

"Fenton. Go. Just…just bring my baby home." And then she stepped back inside and closed the door.

Fenton stared at the closed door as the rain quickly soaked –or rather re-soaked – him, and Ezra felt bad for the guilt-ridden father. However there was no time for feeling bad right now. They had a child to find.

"C'mon," he barked gruffly, eager to get back into the dry car. "Let's go find your son."


	9. Chapter 9

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 9

Laura Hardy just stood in the middle of her living room. Outside she could hear the faint sound of car engines as the patrol car left the driveway to start the search for Joe.

The woman shivered and sank down on the edge of couch.

Her baby was missing…

_Her Joey was missing_.

She kept repeating it to herself over and over again, forcing herself to believe against every fiber of her body that screamed they were wrong. That her little boy wasn't lost…that he was at safe at school, and that this was all some sort of abhorrent mix-up. A horrible nightmare –

It had to be.

Then Laura's gaze dropped on the small, carefully prepared plate of veggies. Carrots. Cucumber. Broccoli. The afternoon snack that Frank had so cheerily helped her prepare. For Joe…

_It's okay, Mommy…Daddy's got me..._

And suddenly it got too hard to breathe.

The room closed up around her. All the air suctioned out –

Her baby was missing…

Her little sunshine boy was gone.

Laura's chest heaved painfully as she wrapped achingly empty arms around herself and hugged tightly. _Joe…_

She leaned over until her forehead almost touched her knees and continued to gasp. Her eyes burned. Her vision blurred.

_No._

_No._

_No!_

Bolting upright, Laura was on her feet, yanked open the front door and lurched outside. Cold rain pounded and bit into her exposed skin but she was oblivious.

_Laura…I'm sorry…_

"JOEY!" the woman screamed as she stumbled down the front steps. "JOEY!!"

_Joey never made it to school…_

She ran to the end of the driveway, not caring about how the puddles splashed under her feet and wet her pants.

_Didn't you walk him to school?..._

_I was going to…_

_but then the phone rang…_

"JOEY!" Laura screamed again. Hot tears tracked down her face as fear ate through her soul. She stopped where the driveway met the sidewalk and twisted, frantically looking for any sign of the small tow-headed boy. "Please…Joey…" A plea, whimpered, and went unanswered.

_Good-bye, Mommy._

Laura turned back to the house, torn in two. Frank. She couldn't leave Frank. Oh God. This was so hard.

Her mind fought to understand. _Where could Joe be?_ He didn't like storms and although striped with an independent streak, he wouldn't just run away. It didn't make sense.

Answers supplied by the dark places of her mind terrified and tormented her:

A small blond boy, alone and afraid…. _Mommy?_

Large blue eyes, scared and crying…._I want to go home._

Precious child, sobbing and hurt…._Please, stop!_

Pale faced, vacant eyed. Dead.

_Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord, my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake. I pray the Lord, my soul to take…_

"JOEY!" Laura screeched until her throat was raw. The passage of time had no matter.

She didn't care that people heard.

She didn't care that people saw.

She didn't care about the car that suddenly lurched to a stop a few feet away from her, or about the restraining hands that grabbed her arms firmly and gave her a little shake –

"Laura?"

The distraught woman stared into her best friend's face. "Find him, Fenton," she sobbed as she refused to let him pull her close. She didn't want his comfort. She wanted her son, "FIND HIM!" she yelled, unexpectedly enraged. "FIND MY SON. NOW!"

And then a small voice behind them pulled Laura back from the edge of hysteria.

"Mommy?"

It was Frank.

For one long moment, Laura just stared up into her husband's face, not even bothering to wonder why he was back so soon, and figuring a neighbor's call to 911 about a 'mad woman' on the corner of High and Elm streets would have added up to as much, and then she forced a false calmness for her brave little boy and turned around.

The child stood, his clothing, quickly soaked, plastered to his small body. Pale faced and shivering, he clutched something tightly in his fist but when he saw his mother looking at him, he opened his hand and held it out so she could see what it was.

It was Joe's car.

"Don't cry, Mommy," the little boy implored. "Joe'll be home soon." His eyes were dark with certainty. "He's _got_ to come home….I have Pal. See?"

The child pressed the small car towards her and Laura's hands trembled when she took the toy, its metal still warm from Frank's hand. Her heart crumbled and she collapsed to her knees, grabbed her son and pulled him towards her, mindless of the rain or cold. The world narrowed to her and Frank.

His small arms looped around her back and held tight as she pressed her face against the side of his and just held on. He smelled like Joe.

"Oh Frank…" she whispered and then sniffed and pulled back. She placed a hand on either side of his face and leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. The child didn't even move or try to squirm away. "Of course. You're right. Your brother will be home soon. He'll be missing his car…" she gave him another quick squeeze and added, "And his brother…"

Pulling away, she stood up and then brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. This wasn't helping Joe.

Fenton reached towards her but Laura pushed him away. "Go," she implored, suddenly feeling exhausted. She indicated an impatient-looking Officer Collig waiting in the patrol car behind them. "Please."

The man looked torn. His face was guilt stricken and grief lined and she knew he wanted desperately to do the impossible: to find Joe AND to be there for her and Frank. But he couldn't be, and Laura wanted her son more than she wanted his company.

Part of her was afraid of what she might say if he stayed behind, and another part wanted to say it.

…_It's okay, Mommy…Daddy's got me…_

But it wasn't 'okay' because Fenton didn't 'have' him. He had answered the phone, and let her six year old son leave the house by himself.

Laura knew it wasn't really his fault and that her husband would rather die than let anything happen to her or their boys, but it still didn't change the facts. She had trusted Fenton to see that Joe got to school…and the child hadn't.

"Are you sure," her husband asked, "I could stay—"

"No!" It came out harsher than intended but instead of apologizing, Laura shook her head, her eyes silently begging for his purposeful distance. "Fenton…he's going to be afraid. You know how much he hates storms."

Frank's hand slipped into hers and Laura gave it a gentle squeeze.

"We'll be okay," she added. It was a lie but her deceit felt justified, and she forced a smile for good measure.

Fenton held her gaze and then glanced down. "All right," he said, his voice soft and resigned. He turned to leave but Frank's voice stopped him:

"Hurry up and find him, Daddy, okay? Joey's favorite part is getting found."

Laura closed her eyes as they stung; her son's words unknowingly salt in the wounds. Frank was right. While Joe loved playing 'Hide'n Seek', his favorite part about the game was being found –

_Bright blue eyes, shiny with excitement peered up from under his bed._

_You found me! You really found me!_

"I will, Frank."

The woman reopened her eyes at the slight tremble in her normally self-assured husband's voice. She watched him get back in the car and slam the passenger side door, his head hung low, his shoulders stooped with the weight of their loss.

Collig gave her a slight nod as he spoke into a radio and then pulled away from the curb, leaving her and her son standing there.

The coldness of Frank's hand in hers pulled Laura's attention back to them. They were both wet and cold.

"C'mon," she gently urged, tugging on his hand. "Let's go back inside."

As Frank placidly complied and they went into the warm house, she could only hope that wherever her baby was, he wasn't cold and that he'd be home soon.

The house was just too quiet…

For them all.


	10. Chapter 10

_If you like my stories, and LOVE owied/angstyJoe and protectivebigbro Frank, than you have to read 'I'll Be Home for Christmas' by my beta, Red Hardy. Seriously Hardy Boys fans, this woman is one of the best - if not thee best - Hardy Boys fan fiction writer I've ever read. And she is finally posting here!!! So take a look at this story and let her know what you think!! She is listed on My favorite authors, so just follow the link to her story. And if you don't want to do that, than just check the upates. It is there!!_

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 10

Frank lay on his side on the couch and quietly ran the little black car back and forth across the material in front of him. The house was quiet and he could hear the steady ticking of the large grandfather clock at the top of the stairs.

As he listened, the fridge started running and the furnace kicked in.

From outside blue and red lights flashed brightness against the living room curtains, the only outward indication that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. That and the two police officers standing on the front porch.

The little boy lifted his gaze to the comfortable armchair directly across from him and watched his mother. She sat there staring unblinking at the phone on the coffee table between them. Her face was pale and sad looking, and Frank knew exactly how she felt. He missed his brother too…

Every now and then she would sigh or glance down at her watch. Sometimes she would even pick up the phone just to make sure it was working. Whenever she saw him looking at her, she would offer a small smile and ask him how he was feeling.

He'd say 'fine' and then go back to running the car along the couch, and that had been their routine for the past hour or more now.

So once again Laura smiled when her eyes caught his and asked. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" Frank saw her chin quiver.

He gave a one-shoulder shrug and answered blandly, "Fine," expecting her attention to waver and his to go back to the car, like usual. But this time his mom did something different.

This time she moved towards him, crouched down in front of the couch and placed a warm hand on his side. She gently squeezed. "Didn't we teach you not to fib?" she chided softy and then added, "I don't think either of us is really 'fine'."

"I miss Joe," Frank admitted miserably. "I want him to come home." His gaze flickered to the toy. "I don't want his car anymore."

"Oh baby," Laura's voice cracked as she sat down on the couch next to the child and pulled him into her lap. Frank immediately pressed his head against the comfort of her body and wrapped his arms around her waist. She ran the fingers of one hand through his silky dark hair while the other hand held him tight. "I miss him too…"

Frank sniffled as he tried so hard not to cry, but he was only seven and he didn't understand why his brother just couldn't come home. _What was taking his Daddy so long to find him?_ _Joe was just one little kid, surely he couldn't' be that difficult to find, could he?_

"Mommy?" his voice was muffled but somehow his mother heard him.

"Hmmm?" she asked and he felt her cheek press against the top of his head.

"What's taking so long? Why hasn't Daddy found Joey yet?" He raised his head to look into his mother's face, "Daddy is the best detective ever, isn't he? He finds lost people all the time!"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'all the time'…" his mother corrected quietly and then sighed and traced a finger along his cheek. "but he is very good at what he does and we have to believe he's going to find Joe and find him soon."

"But, Mommy," Frank persisted, "what if he doesn't? What if—" tears blurred his vision; he knew he was shaking, but he couldn't help it as he was suddenly consumed with the horrible feeling that he might never see his little brother again. "What if he can't find Joey?"

"Frank…" His mother's voice sounded strange. Like she didn't have enough air in her lungs or something, but before she could say anything else, someone knocked on the door; an urgent, quick knock.

The sound sent Frank flying off the couch. It had to be Joe. It just had to be! _Sometimes_ the six year old knocked, and even if he never had, there was always the first time.

But it wasn't.

It was Biff's mom, a pleasant-faced plump woman with white-blond hair – just like Biff. Her face was red and the little boy knew she had been crying. Instantly his heart hammered painfully in his chest. Tears were never a good thing –

"Mommy?" He turned to his own mother looking for reassurance.

"It's okay, sweetie." His mother's hand on his shoulder squeezed and then gently pulled him back from the door so Mrs. Hooper come could in. Biff was with her, his face just as red as hers, his eyes just as swollen.

Frank's stomach flip-flopped. Biff looked scared. Biff never looked scared. "Frank?" He looked back over his shoulder at his mom. "Why don't you take Biff upstairs and show him your new game?"

Frank blinked. _New game?_ And then remembered: his father had bought them back a Sponge Bob™ checkers game from his last trip to New York City. He and Joe had played it yesterday but only for a little while because Frank's stomach hadn't been feeling too well. That seemed so long ago now…

"Okay," he said quietly. "C'mon Biff," and then moved towards the stairs, Pal clutched tightly in his fist. Biff followed, leaving the two women alone in the living room.

"The cops outside your house are pretty cool," the blond-haired boy admitted as they went up the stairs. Both of them glanced at Joe's door as they passed. The door was open. The bed was neatly made. There were no clothes, books or toys strewn on the floor – it was meticulously clean and achingly empty.

"Yeah," Frank said glumly as he placed the toy car next to his pillow for safe keeping, and then sat down on the edge of his bed and sighed. His brother's absence was pronounced in every room. "You missed the sniffer dogs."

"Really?" Biff looked around Frank's room and then pulled out the chair by the small desk. "Were they German Shepherds? I really like German Shepherds." He sat down.

Frank already knew that. Anyone who spent any time with Biff Hooper knew he LOVED dogs – big dogs. He shrugged. "No." Bending over he reached under his bed and pulled out the game. He put it on the bed but didn't move to open the lid.

"What kind were they?" the blond boy persisted and Frank worked to keep from rolling his eyes. The boy was 'dog crazy'.

"I don't know. I never asked," Frank admitted. It hardly seemed important at the time. They came, two big dogs with two handlers, asked for something of Joe's – his mom gave them a shirt – and then they left. That had been an hour ago now.

"Oh," Biff rubbed his eyes and then moved towards the bed. "You wanna play?" His interest was as obviously listless as Frank's.

"Not really," the Hardy boy admitted. "Joey likes Sponge Bob™ more than I do…"

His friend nodded. "Yeah….Don't seem right to play without him….Do you think your dad's going to find him soon?"

"Of course he will." Frank's faith in his father was absolute. Well, mostly absolute. To be honest though, he'd expected Fenton to have found Joe by now, but he wasn't ready to admit that to Biff. "He's my dad."

Biff didn't say anything for a few moments while Frank leaned back on his bed, put his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

"Your dad is pretty scary," the blond boy finally admitted, surprising Frank, who turned his head to look at him. "I thought for sure he was going to shoot me! And he left me at school. Mr. Manning had to phone my dad to come pick me up!" he added, stretching out beside Frank and mirroring his position. The two children looked at each other.

"My dad only shoots bad guys," Frank defended. He looked back up at the ceiling.

"I know that," Biff scoffed. "But he still scared me."

Frank sat up. "Let's go back downstairs." He couldn't admit it to Biff – after all he was a grown man of _seven_ now – but he really wanted to be near his mother. The upstairs was just too lonely, even with Biff sitting right beside him. His wasn't the company Frank wanted…

Biff nodded as he sat up. "Okay. It's too weird being here without Joe anyway," and Frank couldn't have agreed with him more….

"Are you boys hungry?" Mrs. Hooper asked when she saw them coming down the stairs. Frank didn't see his mother anywhere and immediately became alarmed:

"Where's my mom?" he demanded, his brown eyes wide and fearful.

"She's just talking to your father in his study." The woman tipped her head towards the hallway where his father's office was.

"My dad's here?" Frank started towards the hall but Mrs. Hooper's voice stopped him:

"I'm sorry, Frank, I meant she's talking to him on the phone. Your father isn't here, he's still out looking for your brother." She held out a hand towards him, "C'mon, let's see what we can find in the kitchen. I don't know about you but I wouldn't mind a little something – maybe popcorn?"

Frank hesitated and then let her take his hand and draw him away from the living room. He didn't really want anything to eat but got a feeling that Biff's mother was not about to take no for an answer. He cast his friend a desperate look but Biff only shrugged apologetically and then followed them into the kitchen.

He tried to feign interest as Mrs. Hooper made a production out of nuking popcorn before he finally excused himself to use the bathroom. After peeing – 'cause he didn't want [it to have lied – he crept down the hallway and stood outside his father's study and listened. The child expected to hear his mother's voice and cocked his head to the side, but he didn't. Instead he heard a soft, distressed sound and something in his chest tightened. His mother was crying…

Pushing open the door, Frank slipped inside the small room and saw his mother standing with her back to the door. Her arms were wrapped around herself in a hug and her whole body shook as she quietly cried.

The child moved towards her; one hand reached out and touched her back. "Mommy?" he whispered, unsure of his welcome. His heart was pounding painfully as fear ate at his insides. It terrified him to see his mother cry.

Laura slowly turned, knelt down and pulled Frank to her, her slender arms winding around his small body. She buried her face against his shoulder and just held him; her tears burned his skin.

"I'm sorry, baby," she murmured and then Frank's vision blurred and he was crying too. She didn't have to say anything else. He already knew –

His little brother was still missing.

Frank didn't understand, though. Joe should have been found by now. He should be right here regaling them with wild exaggerations about what he'd been doing while they had been worrying; after all, his _father_ – Frank's _father_ – was looking for his brother.

His father was a great detective. He carried a gun. Wore disguises. Was handsome. Strong. Brave. He could do anything.

He was a superhero.

He was –

He was…

Frank's vision cleared. He closed his eyes. Tears trickled off the end of his nose. He pressed his cheek against his mother –

He _was_ a man.

Fenton Hardy was merely a man…

And for the first time since he'd been told Joe was missing, the seven year old was honestly afraid he might never see his little brother again.


	11. Chapter 11

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 11

Arms wrapped tightly around her petite frame, blond hair hanging limp against her pale face, Laura just stood by the front window and stared out.

The street was dark and deceptively tranquil looking, hiding the massive hurt that hung over the Hardy house.

Police officers passed between the streetlamps as they searched – _patrolled_ – the area, paying particular attention to the route the child should have taken. And finding nothing. Not even his small backpack.

Behind her, Frank lay curled up under a plaid blanket on the couch, a small black car clutched tightly in his fist as he slept, his tear streaked face sad even in sleep. The sound of his gentle breathing was her only comfort; his need for her strength the only thing keeping Laura together.

Georgia Hooper and Biff had left hours ago, only after Laura insisted that they go. And that she and Frank would be okay until Fenton came home. _Until he brought Joe home_.

_Fenton…_

Laura closed her eyes and sighed heavily. _How could you love and hate someone at the same time? _Her heart blamed him and needed him to make this right but her head knew it wasn't his fault – _not really_ – and that this was something he might not be able to fix.

He had made a mistake; a simple error in judgment. But worry and anger were married and the price of his imperfection had cost them all.

_It's okay, Mommy, Daddy's got me._

Only Fenton didn't. Did he?

And the truly terrifying part was that Laura knew if her husband didn't find Joe, or if they did but it was too late for the child, their family would have lost much more than just a little boy…

"Oh, Joey," she whispered to the window, "Where are you, Baby?"

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Fenton Hardy stared at the clock on the dash of the parked police cruiser. 1:33 AM. It was dark, the rain had finally stopped…and his younger son had been missing for 17 hours now.

It had been 17 hours since the little boy had waved goodbye and walked out of their lives, his whereabouts or what had happened in the block and a half between the Hardys' and Hoopers' houses remained a mystery.

No one saw anything.

No one heard anything.

Even the police dogs hadn't been any use. The heavy rain stymied their attempt to track the child's scent. It was as if Joe had never even existed –

_It isn't very far. Only a little bit and then Biff'll see me. Please, Daddy, please…_

Fenton closed his eyes and forced each breath.

In. Out. In. Out.

Oh God he could still feel those small arms wrap around his legs, give him a quick hug and then –

And then Joe was gone.

"Mr. Hardy?"

The detective sighed and forced his attention towards the older man.

Chief Collig was watching him and the compassionate look on his face was almost Fenton's undoing. He didn't deserve this man's empathy. It had been his choice. Fenton's choice. Rather than risk losing a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity, he had let the six year old little boy go and the horrific irony was not lost on him at all. In fact it ate away at his very soul –

His 'once-in-a-lifetime' opportunity had lost him the one thing that truly was only once in a lifetime. A child.

"It's late," Collig stated needlessly, "We really should get you back to your house."

Fenton turned an anguished gaze on the police officer. "How can I?" he asked; his normally strong voice trembled. "How can I go back there without Joey?"

The cop looked at him and Fenton knew he was being unfair. There was no way the other man could answer that question for him. "Sorry," he apologized, scrubbing a hand over his tired face. "I just—" his dark brown eyes burned. "I just want my son back."

Officer Collig sighed heavily and sat back in the seat and stared out the front window. The night was pitch-black and it was very difficult to make anything out beyond the gentle glow of the streetlights. "Your family still needs you." He spoke quietly. "It mightn't be much but that is something worth going home for….We will continue the search but right now it's time for _you_ to go home. At least for the night…" He turned his head and looked right into the young detective's eyes. "Don't lose them too, Fenton."

Something bitter rose in the back of his throat and Fenton swallowed hard to keep it down. He thought about the look of betrayal in Laura's eyes and the confidence on Frank's face, and his words were merely a whisper. "It might already be too late…" His eyes stung as he tried to force a smile and failed miserably. "I need to find Joey for all of us."

Ezra gave him a long hard look and then sighed and straightened in his seat. He turned the key in the ignition and flicked on the headlights. "Okay, then," was all he said.

Fenton had no idea what the other man saw when he looked at him but whatever it was, it made the cop realize just how deep Joe's loss could cut them all.

Joe Hardy had to be found.

There was no other choice.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

The child tossed restlessly on the small cot in a dark room; his pale face tear-streaked, his blond hair slick with sweat.

A woman sat on the edge and watched him, her plain face crinkled in confused worry. She looked at the man standing in the doorway. "What's wrong with him?"

"Dunno," the man grunted. "But he was out in the rain so maybe he's come down with something."

"Poor dear," the woman cooed, reaching out to gently brush the hair away from his face. The child turned into her touch, opened feverish blue eyes and frowned at her.

"Mommy?" he slurred as he blinked a couple of times.

A wide smile prettied the woman's face and she nodded, "That's right, honey, Mommy."

Her voice seemed to startle him and the little boy pulled away from her soothing touch. "No," he protested, "I want my Mommy!"

The woman turned back to the man again. He entered the room and approached the upset child.

"This is your Mommy," he insisted.

"No!" the boy practically yelled and slipped off the other side of the bed. Neither the man nor woman made a move to stop him.

"Easy, boy," the man instructed, "you're just sick and a bit confused."

The child shook his head and immediately regretted it as he was violently ill.

"Jason!" the woman cried out and was on her knees with the child immediately. The boy tried to push her away but he was too weak and collapsed against her body, crying and heaving until there was nothing left in his small stomach. "Shhh, baby," she whispered as she started to gently rock him, shaking her head when the man offered to help with the child. He left the room instead, coming back moments later with a bucket and paper towels and knelt down on the floor next to them. The woman continued to console the little boy. "It's okay, Mommy's got you…you're okay now…you're going to be just fine. Mommy's here and everything is going to be all right…"

The man watched the woman and child for a moment and then slowly smiled…. A heartbeat later he bent over and started scrubbing the carpet.


	12. Chapter 12

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 12

**Two years later:**

Nine-year old Frank Hardy was pissed off. There was no other way to put it.

"It's still not fair!" he yelled from the top of the stairs.

"And you're still _not_ going!" his mother yelled back from the kitchen.

Turning, the dark haired youngster stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door. Angrily he kicked the end of his bed and then fell, face down, onto the mattress. "_I hate this family!_" he screamed into his pillow, too upset to wipe the hot tears from his face. It wasn't true but right now he was angry and hurt, and he wanted to hurt back. Even if his mother couldn't hear him.

Gulping in large breaths to try and calm himself down, the irate boy slowly rolled onto his side. He scrubbed his wet face and looked up at the picture resting on the edge of his desk. It was taken just over two years ago and showed a very different family. A family of smiling, happy people. A family of four.

The way it should be. The way it _used_ to be. Not this husk that drifted through the rooms and halls pretending that nothing had changed.

Everything _had_ changed and everything _sucked_.

Still fuming, the boy sat up and glared at the smiling tow-headed little boy in the picture. Joey.

"You know this is all your fault," he growled, "if you hadn't gone and gotten yourself stolen, I'd be able to go away this weekend with my friends instead of being stuck here. Like always." More words and anger he didn't mean but Frank needed an outlet, a safe place to vent, and an old picture of a family he barely remembered seemed a safe bet. Even if he felt horrible two seconds later.

"I'm sorry, Joey!" he sobbed, fresh tears wetting his cheeks, "I didn't mean it! I didn't!" He took down the picture and wiped it against his shirt, dusting it to a shine. Looking at it again, he sighed miserably. "I just wish you'd come back…"

Frank still didn't understand what happened. Even now that he was two years older, he couldn't comprehend why his father hadn't been able to find his brother…and it scared him. _What did it mean? Where had Joey gone?_

At night when the house was dark and quiet, he'd lie awake under his bedclothes and listen, his fertile imagination whispering in his brother's voice. Taunting him, begging for him in every shadow…

_Frankie…_

_Frankie…_

_I'm cold…_

_Come find me._

And deep in the scariest places of his mind where nightmares resided, Frank was afraid his brother was dead and he knew other people thought so too. Hushed voices weren't always as discreet and pitying glances didn't always look away quickly enough.

But somewhere else, somewhere deeper than the scariest places, there resided something else. Something so firmly nestled that even the worst of nightmares bowed down to it, and Frank dared call it 'hope'. It was the same thing he saw light up his mother's eyes whenever his father came home, only to be extinguished a moment later with a mere shake of the man's head –

But Frank held fast. He had to. _Someone_ had to. For Joey.

The sound of a phone ringing startled the boy and he reluctantly put the picture back on the desk and stood up. He'd go wash the tears away, put on his brave face and go downstairs, because as unfair as it was, and how suffocating his life was, he knew his mother's fears were justified…. Someone could come take him if she or his father weren't there to stand watch. After all, someone took his little brother.

…

Laura hated what she had become. She knew it wasn't fair – after all it was just an outing at the park with his friends – but she couldn't let Frank go. Not with Fenton out of town and her nursing a twisted ankle, there was just no way she'd be able to keep up with the boys for very long. So as much as it sucked the big one – and it did, according to a very vocal nine-year old – he'd just have to wait until next weekend.

And hope the weather held. The long range forecast didn't look promising but Laura wasn't prepared to pay much mind to those things.

Frank would just have to deal with the fact that his mother had turned into an overprotective meanie. So there!

"Oh that's real mature, Laura," the woman scolded herself as she hobbled towards the kitchen table. She sighed and sat down. "Try explaining 'irrational fear' to a fourth grader." Not that her fear was irrational. One glance at the unused place setting at the table confirmed that.

Even now, two years after her baby had disappeared she still set out a plate for him. It wasn't healthy, Laura knew that, but somehow she just couldn't bring herself to change it. In her anguishing mind, to set only three places at the table would be giving permission for her little boy to never come back. And she couldn't do that. Not yet. Laura just wasn't ready to let go. Not until…not until she was.

It was as simple as that.

The phone ringing startled the woman and she slowly pushed herself to her feet. The outside world was calling so it was time to put on her brave and face it; pretend that somewhere deep down inside, she wasn't ready to crumble.

…

Fenton Hardy was exhausted. As he sat alone in a small diner in the middle of Manhattan he tried to keep his eyes open. Not that falling asleep was really a concern, as his mind wouldn't allow him the luxury of rest. The man hadn't had a decent night of sleep since his younger son had vanished without a trace. His every attempt was haunted by the memory of that morning as he subconsciously trolled every detail looking for something that wasn't there before. _There had to be something_, he'd tell himself, _children just didn't disappear_.

Especially not his son.

But there was never anything and he'd come awake with a start, his ears straining for a voice he'd never heard…

_Daddy…_

_Daddy…_

_Save me._

"Want a refill?" a bubble-gum-chewing waitress, complete with a hand on her hip, interrupted and Fenton gave her a wan look. He shook his head and she moved away.

He thought about Laura and Frank. God how he wished he was home with them, but a hint of a rumor of a child pornography ring that favored little blond haired boys necessitated this latest foray into the big city. It hadn't panned out and Fenton wasn't sure whether he was thankful about that or not. It might have meant finding his son and right now the young detective was desperate enough to almost not mind the damage.

Not that his life wasn't already damaged.

Things were strained, at best, between him and Laura; there was a curtness there that had never existed there before as impatience and unspoken irritation overshadowed almost every interaction. And Frank –

Oh God, that poor kid.

"_Daddy, am I still a big brother?" _

Frank had lost more than a brother. He had lost an identity as he was thrust back into the folds of being an only child…. An only child tethered by his parents' fear and stunted by circumstances beyond his control –

"Excuse me?"

With painstaking slowness, Fenton lifted his eyes, prepared to tell the pesky waitress what she could do with her 'refill', when the dark blue of the uniform stilled his tongue. "Mr. Hardy? I'm Officer Dottie; your partner told us we could find you here." The cop, a large red-haired man, glanced briefly at the other officer standing behind him. "We have some news about your son…"

…

Laura answered the phone on the third ring as Frank moved quietly into the kitchen. "Hello?"

Fenton's voice was breathless in her ear:

_Laura… _

Her heart started to pound –

…_we found him…_


	13. Chapter 13

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 13

Eight-year-old 'Jason' Turner sat at the kitchen table of a nice little bungalow and stared down at the school field trip notice he'd carefully laid out on the table. His class was going to the New York Zoo but they needed to return their signed permission slips first. Therein lay the problem…

"Mommy?" he started hesitantly at the brown haired woman standing with her back to him as she peeled some potatoes, "My class is—" he paused, his blue eyes darting towards the hallway when he heard the front door open.

His 'mother' glanced over her shoulder at him. "What is it baby?"

"Uh…nothing…" the child mumbled as he folded up the notice and slipped it into his jeans pocket. He'd stood a chance of his mother letting him go, but his 'father'? That wasn't going to happen. The man kept a very tight rein on Jason and seldom let him go out to play with his friends, let alone allow him to go on a fieldtrip. Sometimes it amazed the child that his father let him go to school.

The woman gave him a sympathetic smile that turned into a bright one when she saw the man come into the kitchen. "How was work?" she asked, wrapping him up in a tight hug that made the child roll his eyes and turn away. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," the man murmured as he buried his face into the woman's neck. Jason quietly got up to leave.

"_Jason_," his father's voice stopped him in the doorway; its tone held a familiar note of warning. "Stay in the house."

The child nodded solemnly and then headed towards his room. He frowned as he sat down on the edge of his small, neatly made bed, and looked around his room.

Stay in the house? _As if he needed reminding…_

Sighing, he turned to the small bookshelf and looked for something to read. It was the best way to pass time that he knew of. It was easier to lose himself in a make-believe story than to spend much time thinking about anything else. Anything else hurt…

The sound of someone at the front door roused Jason and he sat up; the book he'd been reading before he'd fallen asleep fell to the floor with a thud. He heard voices. Loud, angry voices and his heart started to pound painfully in his chest.

_Who was there?_

Someone cursed. Crass and infuriated –

_Daddy?_

The child slid from the bed and stood up. His slender body trembled as he wrapped his arms firmly around himself. Daddy was mad. _Really_ mad.

Whoever was at their house needed to go away. Now!

Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and his mother hurried in. "Jason!" she shrieked but before she could reach him, another man, and then another, rushed in and grabbed her. They pulled her away as she fought them, kicking and screaming. _"My baby! My baby! You can't have my baby! JASON!!!!_"

It took a moment for the child to register the blue of the uniforms, the clean shaven faces of the men…and then the real panic set in.

"No!" Jason yelled as he hurled himself towards his mother. "Mommy! _Mommy!!_" One of the police officers reached for him but the child deftly slipped past him.

"Stop that kid!" the man yelled and Jason suddenly found himself surrounded by uniformed strangers, each grabbing at him as the woman was hustled down the hall and out the front door.

Terrified, the child tried to back away. He shook his head and tried to keep from crying but he was scared. His father had warned him about this. About what would happen if something like this happened –

…_If anyone ever comes to take you away from me and your Mommy, I will kill them. Do you hear me, Jason? Do you understand…? _

"NO!" he shrieked again, kicking madly as a strong hand wrapped around his forearm. The man was saying something but the child was too upset to hear him. He thrashed wildly and almost got loose but the grip tightened. In sheer desperation, Jason sank his teeth into the hand and then lurched away as its owner cursed and let him go.

"Jesus," someone growled.

Jason backed away from the men and pressed himself into a corner. There was nowhere he could go – the police were everywhere.

Scared, wet eyes darted from one stranger to another. His breathing was quick and panicked –

He had to get away. He had to find his Mommy and Daddy. He had to! He just had to!

And then one stranger stepped away from the others and slowly crouched down to eye level with the little boy. He didn't make any moves to come closer or to grab Jason as the child watched him carefully.

"Hey, _Jason_, is it?" the man spoke, his voice oddly gentle. He waited until Jason gave a slight nod. "I bet you're pretty confused right now, huh?" He glanced around at the other men. "It's probably pretty scary too, huh? I know I'd be scared if I was a little kid like you." Again he waited for Jason to acknowledge him. "But my name is Officer Jensen and I'm here to try and help you. Will you let me help you?"

The man had kind eyes. Dark brown. They kinda reminded Jason of someone…. A hot tear streaked down the little boy's face.

"Hey. Hey," the man chided gently as he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He held it out to the child. "None of that…No one here's going to hurt you. I promise you that."

Jason hesitated before cautiously taking the offered hankie. "I want my Mommy," he whispered. His voice quivered.

The man glanced behind him and then looked back at Jason, giving the boy a sad smile. "I know you do—"

A commotion from outside interrupted and Officer Jensen stood up abruptly and spun around, placing himself between Jason and the front door as a tall dark-haired man burst into the house.

"Mr. Hardy—" the cop started but the newcomer ignored him, his dark brown eyes locked on the child standing behind him.

"Oh my God," all the color drained from the man's face, "…Joe?"

_Joe?_

"No," Jason shook his head vehemently, once again pressing his body into the corner. "No!" He dropped the handkerchief.

"_Joey?" _

The haunted whisper terrified the child. "N-no," he stammered, "m-my name is J-Jason. Jason Turner."

Officer Jensen put a restraining hand on the other man's shoulder. "Fenton," Jason flinched at the sound of the name. "Please, wait outside…let us handle this."

Fenton shook the officer off, his eyes never once leaving the child's face as he sank down to one knee. "Joey?" he persisted. _"Son?"_

Jason's eyes watered and he swallowed hard. "J-Jason…my name is…is Jason."

"No," Fenton insisted, gently. "It's not. Your name is Joseph Hardy…and you're my son."

…_Your name is Jason Turner. Do you hear me? __Jason__. You will not answer to anything else, if you do, I will kill you. Do you understand me…? Do you, Jason…?_

"NO!" an outburst of anger overrode his fear and Jason yelled at the man. "My. Name. Is. JASON!!!"

Fenton shook his head. "No," he denied, "it's not."

Totally overwhelmed, Jason threw himself at the man, hitting him with his fists as he continued to yell. "My name is Jason! My name is Jason…!"

_Didn't this man understand? His name had to be Jason… it had to be!_

…

Fenton Hardy's eyes burned as he tried to hold the thrashing child. He absorbed the flying fists of the tantrum and tried to be heard over the almost psychotic mantra of '_my name is Jason_'. "It's okay. It's okay," he kept repeating, waiting for the child to wear himself out, still unable to believe this was Joe. That his missing son had been found. But there was no time for disbelief as the traumatized child went into a complete meltdown.

Behind him, he heard someone asking for a paramedic and then barely managed to contain the flailing limbs for the sedation. He hated to have it done but Joe was too upset –

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The detective wasn't supposed to be holding his newly found child – _the little boy he'd lost_ – waiting for the drugs to kick in…

"Mr. Hardy?" Fenton scooped the now unconscious little boy into his arms and carefully stood. _Heaven help this man if he was going to try to come between the detective and his son, again…._He turned to face Officer Jensen, unashamed of the wetness on his face. "The ambulance is waiting outside."

Fenton nodded slowly and then followed the officer out of the house. It was best. Joe needed to be checked out. Just to be sure…

He swallowed hard as he thought about how close they had come to not finding the child. It had been a fluke. A damn fluke. That was how Joe was found. A neighbor had called in a wrong address to a TIPS line. The police staking out the house looking for a drug dealer had found the Hardys' missing son instead – thank God.

But something told Fenton as he cradled his precious child in his arms and stepped into the back of the waiting vehicle that finding Joe might have been the easiest part.

Now that they had him, they'd have to work to get him back….


	14. Chapter 14

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 14

Laura Hardy just stared at the phone.

"_Laura?"_ her husband's deep voice rumbled from the receiver, _"Did you hear what I said? We found him, Laura. We found Joey!"_

The words slammed into her, buckling her knees as she grabbed for the countertop. She heard Frank's alarmed voice asking her what was wrong but she couldn't answer him. Hell, she could hardly breathe.

_We found him…_

Oh God, those words. She'd been waiting so long to hear those words.

_We found Joey!_

"Is he – " her voice strangled in her throat as she fought to ask, "Is he…okay?"

There was a brief pause on the other end and Laura's heart stopped –

"_He…uh…he's a bit confused…"_ Fenton's tone wasn't exactly reassuring but the desperate woman grasped tightly to what he wasn't saying.

"So he's okay then?" she was quick to clarify. "Fenton?"

"_Sweetie…_" again that hesitation that pounded fear through her heart. _"Yeah. He's okay._" Fenton paused and then added. _"He's taller."_

For some reason that made her laugh. Her baby was okay; taller, _confused_…but okay. "Oh thank God!" Hot tears blurred her vision as she turned and reached out for Frank. Instantly her dark haired little boy was by her side and she squeezed him tightly to her. "They found him," she laughed, her voice shaky but excited. "They found Joey!"

And just saying the words – giving her son back his little brother – made everything real…

Frank gaped at her for a moment and then squeezed back as a huge smile transformed his face and his free arm pumped the air. "YES!"

"Where are you? Where is he? I want to see him," she rushed out, her attention returned to the phone as she kept one arm firmly around her son. "I want to see Joey! Oh God, Fenton…"

"_Easy, honey, easy_," Fenton's tone was comforting and Laura realized just how much she'd missed that; it had been a long time since she'd let him make her feel better, "_he's being checked out at the hospital. The Bayport police are sending someone to take you to the airport. A plane's been arranged. Pack an overnight bag for you and Frank. I'll meet you—_"

"No!" Laura interjected sharply. "Stay with Joe, Fenton, _please_ stay with our son!" Her heart pounded wildly at the mere idea of Joe being alone. "We'll get a cab. Just tell me which hospital. We'll be there!"

She felt Frank's scrutiny, his dark brown eyes following her every move as she wrote down the hospital name – _God, her hands were shaking…._ She tried to give him an encouraging smile, having no idea what he was thinking right now.

Once she'd verified the hospital name and address, the woman hung up. She beamed at her son and then shooed him towards the kitchen door. "Hurry, Frank! Get your pajamas….We're going to New York!"

…

Frank pounded up the stairs, his previous anger and indignation stunned into submission and overridden by sheer relief.

_They'd found Joe…they'd really found him!_

He couldn't believe it. After all this time, they'd finally found his brother.

"And about time, too," he groused quietly as he ransacked his drawers for pajamas and a change of clothes. As he slammed the drawer closed he knocked against the desk, making the family picture fall flat. Righting it, Frank looked at the blond haired little boy smiling back at him and a sudden nervousness about seeing his sibling bubbled in his stomach.

_What had Joe been doing all this time? _

_Was he having fun? _

_What if Joe didn't want to come home? _

_What if he didn't want to be Frank's brother anymore…?_

Chewing his lip in apprehension, Frank than shook his head and rolled his eyes. "That's pretty stupid," he berated himself, "Of course Joey's gonna want to come home…I got Pal!"

He reached under his pillow and snagged the small black car that'd he'd taken such precious care of for the past two years. "He's going to want you back now," he assured the toy before stuffing it into the pocket on the side of his small overnight bag. He hurried towards the door and hoped his mother was ready. The sooner they got to the airport, the sooner they could bring Joe home. The sooner they could bring him home, the sooner everything would return to normal.

Frank grinned as he pounded back down the stairs – _his mother didn't even holler at him about that!_ He couldn't wait to tell Joe about the stuff the guys had planned for the weekend. Maybe they'd get to go out with their friends after all…

Maybe.

…

Fenton hung up the pay phone and then leaned against the wall tiredly. The adrenaline rush of finding Joe was weaving out of his body, leaving him feeling sick and exhausted. But until he knew that Joe really was okay, he couldn't afford to give in to his body's weakness. Sleep was for other people. For people who hadn't just found their son after searching for two years.

A smile lit his haggard features as he thought about how excited she was, and Frank…

"Oh crap," the man exhaled suddenly irritated with himself, "I didn't even ask to speak to Frank." He couldn't begin to imagine how his oldest was feeling now. Joe _was_ Fenton's son but he was Frank's _brother_…they had a connection that spanned parental comprehension.

Pushing away from the wall, the detective mentally promised Frank some time after they arrived and hurried back to Joe's room.

He had slipped out of the room to call Laura while the medical staff were assessing the sedated child, and he was anxious to get back.

Pushing open the room door, he saw a nurse fixing a blanket over Joe. She smiled when she saw him and spoke low as she passed, "He's doing just fine. Dr. Jared will be in to talk with you in a just a few minutes."

Fenton smiled in acknowledgment and then moved towards the bed.

"Hey, Joey…" he whispered, reaching out to gently caress the child's cheek. A single tear rolled down his face as his fingers quivered at the contact, his heart scorched with guilt. "Oh God, Joey…I'm sorry, so sorry…"

Murmuring something softly, the child leaned into his touch and Fenton closed his eyes briefly and swallowed hard. "It's okay, Joey, it's okay…Daddy's…Daddy's here," he choked out as he slowly sank into the visitors' chair next to the bed. He picked up one limp hand and held it to his lips. "I'm going to fix this," he vowed, as he lightly kissed the child's fingers. "I'm going to make this all right for you."

And then still holding the small hand, Fenton hunched forward and closed his eyes. Guilt, grief and relief overwhelmed him and his shoulders shook as he silently sobbed….


	15. Chapter 15

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 15

Fenton Hardy sat in a hard-backed chair next to the sleeping figure in the small hospital bed and just stared, mesmerized by his little boy.

"My little Joey…" he spoke low, "look at you…you're all grown up." Two years had made a difference in the youngster. The child was still fundamentally _Joey_, the same corn-silk colored hair and expressive vibrant blue eyes, but there was a paleness on his face and a gauntness in his features that hadn't been there before. Even in his sleep, tension and sadness flittered just beneath the surface.

Fenton knew they'd never know everything that had happened to Joe during his two years away…and it scared him; terrified him that at the tender age of eight, one quarter of his son's life was a mystery and would always remain so, no matter how much the boy told them.

"That wasn't supposed to happen until you got older." Fenton's fingers absently traced a gentle line down the child's face as he spoke. Joe shifted under his touch, sighed deeply and then re-settled again. The sedative would be wearing off soon.

The doctors had done a thorough check and assured the detective that other than being slightly underweight for his age, Joe was fine, physically. No bruises. No sign of molestation…. However, the extent of emotional damage was yet to be seen.

Joe's frantic insistence that he was 'Jason' and his absolute melt-down when confronted with the contrary, evidenced that he'd been brainwashed or emotionally manipulated, but it was yet to be seen just how intensive that programming was…

_How difficult would it be for Joe to fit back into his old life? _

_Would he accept his place back in the Hardy family? _

_Or would this scar and cripple him forever?_

There were no quick answers. It all rested within the mind of the blond haired little boy who started to shift more restlessly as consciousness slowly returned.

Fenton watched with increasing nervousness. He had no idea how Joe was going to react when he woke up.

A quick glance at the time told him Laura and Frank would be there within the hour. He leaned closer to the bed, "C'mon, Joey," he gently encouraged, hoping to do some damage control before the rest of his family arrived, not sure how they would react if Joe rejected them. "It's okay, son, you can open your eyes…" The child turned towards his voice, a small frown pursed his lips as his forehead crinkled in confusion. Fenton's heart started to pound. "C'mon, son," he continued to cajole softly, "that's it…open your eyes…Daddy's here…"

And Joe did.

Sleep-dulled blue eyes slowly opened and locked onto Fenton. The detective held his breath, waiting as he was regarded with first curiosity and then suspicion. Slowly the little boy turned his head, his gaze wandering the rest of the room, until it finally returned to Fenton. The unreadable look on the child's face chilled the man. He had no idea what his son was thinking or feeling – it was so unlike _Joe_ that it drove home like another painful spike to the heart, just what had been lost in their two years apart….

He opened his mouth to say something but Joe spoke first.

"Am I dead?"

The innocent question shook the detective.

"No!" The word launched violently and the child flinched. Fenton immediately moved to apologize but Joe spoke again:

"Are you dead?"

This time the man did keep from shouting. He shook his head. "No, _son—_" another flinch, "you're fine. I'm fine. We're fine."

Joe scrutinized him for a moment and then gave a solemn nod. "Okay."

"Joey—" Fenton started.

"Jason," his son corrected.

This time it was Fenton who flinched. He chose to ignore the correction. "Do you know who I am?" He held his breath as he waited for his son to answer.

For a long moment, Joe just continued to watch him and then slowly he nodded his head again. "Yes, sir." The man took a shaky breath – _that was good_ – he gave an encouraging smile for the child to continue. "You're not real."

That was the last thing Fenton had expected to hear. He stared open mouthed at the child. "_What?_" The whispered word tore air from his tortured lungs as it felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Mommy says I have a very good imagination," Joe continued, seemingly unperturbed by the man's reaction, "a really good one." He dropped his eyes and fiddled with the blankets as his tone lowered. "Even Daddy says so and he never says much to me…" A brief flash of resentment lit the youngster's face, "Except to stay inside. He always wants me to stay inside."

Strangely enough that little spark gave Fenton hope…

"You think I'm not real?" the detective couldn't wrap his mind around this, "but I'm here, sitting right beside you, talking to you…" His voice trailed off.

Joe shrugged as he settled against the bed and closed his eyes, "You do that some times…when I'm sleeping. I see you then – " he turned on his side away from his father, "sometimes."

"Joey—"

The child whirled back towards him angrily, "Stop calling me that! I told you my name is Jason. Ja-son!"

The door to the room opened, interrupting the boy's tirade as a soft-faced nurse hurried in, alerted by the child's outburst. "Is everything okay in here?" She cast Fenton an inquiring look as she moved towards Joe.

Wearily Fenton leaned back in the chair. "Yeah." Watching as the nurse fussed with trying to get the child settled under the covers again, the man slowly stood up. "Is Dr. Jared on the floor? I'd really like to talk to him."

"He's checking charts at the nurses' station," the woman replied affably as she winked at Joe, "I'll stay with Junior if you want. It's not everyday I have a patient as cute as him."

Joe didn't seem to notice the comment as his eyes were once again firmly fixed on Fenton. The detective wasn't sure but he thought the little boy tensed when the man moved away from the bed and towards the door. "Thank you." He accepted the woman's offer even as he paused, reluctant to leave but needing both a moment for himself and a chance to talk a bit more to the physician. "I'll be right back," he tried to assure Joe.

Joe never said anything but Fenton could feel the weight of his gaze as he left the room.

…

Dr. Jared was a young man, probably somewhere around Fenton's age, but he carried himself professionally and quickly earned the detective's respect with the way he dealt with both Joe and the unique situation they presented. His gaze was somber and empathetic as he listened to Fenton's concerns about Joe's continued insistence that he was 'Jason', and the child's remarks about Fenton being a figment of his imagination.

"I just don't know what to do," the distraught father admitted, not used to this kind of impotence. "I don't know if I should continue to confront him or if I should go along with him…he just gets so upset whenever I correct him about his name."

The young physician directed Fenton away from the busy nurses' station and towards a quieter corridor. "Your son has been through a very traumatic event," he reminded needlessly, "and I have to admit child psychology isn't my field, however, I'm inclined to suggest you refrain from continued confrontation. You want your son to start to trust you again. I'm not saying he doesn't trust you now," the doctor held up his hand to stop the protest half formed on Fenton's lips, "he just mightn't remember that yet….Anyway, I'll page Dr. Scoffield and tell him Joey's awake. He's our staff child psychologist and has had a lot of experience dealing with traumatized children. I'm sure he'll be in shortly to talk to both you and Joey so until then, just – just let him know he's safe…. I think that's really the best we can do right now."

Fenton exhaled loudly as he scrubbed a hand across his tired face. Dr. Jared clasped him briefly on the shoulder. "It'll be okay, Mr. Hardy…you got him back, that is more than half the battle."

"I know," the detective admitted, a sad look settling on his face, "but I'm just beginning to wonder if that might have been the easy part."

The doctor gave a non-committal smile and then excused himself to go check on another patient. Fenton watched him leave as he mulled over the other man's words but before he could decide on their merit, a frantic voice called his name from down the hall –

"_Fenton!"_

"_Dad!"_

Laura and Frank were here.


	16. Chapter 16

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 16

The little boy was confused and terrified. His heart pounded in his chest as the tall man with dark hair and familiar eyes left the room. He opened his mouth to call after him, to tell him to come back but then stopped and shivered down beneath the stale hospital sheets.

That man wasn't real. He couldn't be. He was a made-up man who showed up sometimes in the child's dreams and always made everything better.

"You're not real," Jason whispered as he lay on his side and pulled his legs up towards his chest. "You're just here 'cause I'm scared." He sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," the nurse's voice startled the child; he'd forgotten she was here. "Did you say something?"

Jason shook his head miserably. She wouldn't understand. Grown-ups never did.

"Can I get something for you?" The pretty-faced woman moved into his line of vision. Her eyes were blue, like his. "A glass of juice? Some crackers?"

"No, thank you," he said softly, his stomach too upset to think about eating or drinking anything. He canted his head as he appraised her, a sudden thought conflicting his thinking. She had spoken with the dark-haired man… "Are you my fairy god-mother?"

The nurse laughed softly as she rearranged the blankets to cover him more warmly. "I'm afraid not, cutie-pie. I wish I was some days," she paused and then added, her brow crinkled in curiosity, "Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," Jason mumbled, suddenly feeling very foolish. Of course there were no such things as Fairy Godmothers, but it would have explained the dark-haired man being here. A granted wish was preferable to facing the truth that maybe the dark-haired man was real. 'Cause if he was, than he could be killed. Just like Jason's 'father' always promised –

_So help me God, Jason, if this man or his family ever come anywhere near you, I will kill them. Do you hear me? I. Will. Kill. Them! And it will be your fault! __YOURS!__ Do you know what they do to little boys in prison?_

Jason shivered violently at the memory. He had seen the dark-haired man's face on the front of a newspaper blowing outside and asked his 'father' about him. The man had been livid. He'd ripped the paper to shreds in front of Jason and threatened to burn all the boy's books if he even so much as picked up another newspaper again…. But that same night, for the very first time, Jason had seen the dark-haired man in his dreams…. He secretly called him 'Frank'.

'_I don't want nobody to get killed'_, the child's eyes widened as he started to panic, _'I don't want to go to jail!'_

"Hey, hey," the nurse picked up on his increasing anxiety, "what's wrong, sweetie?" She reached out to touch his wrist but the boy shrank back, scrambling to get the blankets off and get out of the bed. He had to get out of here.

Apparently though, this nurse was a blocker for the New York Jets; she countered his every move, easily keeping herself between the door and him. "Where are you going?"

"I gotta go," Jason gasped. It was getting increasingly more difficult to breathe as it felt like someone had wrapped a steel band, viselike, around his chest. "Please!"

"Joey, calm down—"

The child sucked in a breath and screamed. "MY. NAME. IS. JASON!" Didn't they understand? Didn't they know? He HAD to be Jason –

In a desperate move, Jason grabbed the tray next to his bed and hurled it towards the nurse!

Instinctively the woman raised her hands to ward it off and the little boy bolted past her and out the door. He was free!

…

Laura Hardy held tight to her older son's hand as they raced down the hallway towards her husband.

"Fenton!" she cried out, closely echoed by Frank's, 'Dad,' surprised to see the man standing near the nurse's station. He was supposed to stay with Joe. "Where's Joey?" she demanded as she released Frank's hand and grabbed her husband by his forearms, her grip tight and frantic. "_Where's my son?_"

"Easy, Laura," Fenton tried to soothe, his dark eyes beseeching her to calm down. "He's okay. A nurse is with him."

"Dad?" Frank inserted as he tugged at his father's jacket in a rather youngish display that betrayed his own fear.

"He's okay," the detective repeated and Laura let his reassurance abate her panic to a more tolerable level. Now she was merely very extremely anxious. "I promise you both," his eyes moved back to hers and held them, imploringly. "Joey is fine."

"Thank God," Laura gushed. She could never hear him say that too many times. It didn't put her completely at ease, though. "So, where is he?" She had to see her baby right now.

Fenton had just opened his mouth to say something when a little boy's fear-filled voice, screamed through the halls:

_MY. NAME. IS. JASON!_

And Laura felt the air rush out of her lungs. _Joe_. She didn't have to ask which room anymore as the door across from her crashed open and Joe raced out and into the hall. He slid to a rocking stop when he saw them standing there –

"Oh my baby," Laura's hand flew to her mouth and tears burned her eyes as she saw her little boy for the first time in two years. "My precious, precious baby…" Her words were whispered as the world around them shrank to just her and the distraught youngster now staring open-mouthed mere feet away. She wanted to open her arms and just have him rush in to her but she didn't. She knew he wouldn't. And as much as it broke her heart it also strengthened her resolve to get him back.

"Joey?" It was Frank's tremulous voice from beside her that broke the impasse. "I got something for ya." Laura didn't dare turn her head, even when she heard her older son searching for something in his pockets. A moment later she caught the movement as he held out his hand towards his younger brother. "It's Pal. I brought him."

Joe's eyes darted between the three of them, finally settling on the little black car in Frank's hand. His eyes shone brightly as he shifted his gaze from the toy, to Frank, to Fenton and then, lastly, to her. Laura felt the weight of their scrutiny but refused to blink, even when the tears spilled down her cheeks. _'C'mon, baby, you know it's us…'_

The nurse spilled into the doorway behind Joe and Fenton held up his hand to keep her from grabbing the child.

"Joey?" Laura soothed, "Are you okay, Baby?"

His breath hitched at her tone and the woman thought she saw a flicker of recognition, quickly smothered by fear, and her anger ignited. Who dared hurt her little boy?

Undeterred, Laura tried again. She glanced at Frank who was still holding out the toy car. "Frank took very good care of your car for you…" She paused when she saw Joe's attention return to his brother. "He misses you." Her breath caught in her throat. "We – we all do."

With Joe's gaze still on Frank, Laura watched as her older son slowly crouched down to his knees. Around them the corridor was hushed as everyone watched the little drama play out.

Frank placed the small Impala on the polished floor and then looked up at Joe. The blond boy made no move. "You said for me to take care of it until you got back…" he pulled the car back slightly on the floor, winding up the wheels, "Well, you're back now. So here," and then released the toy.

Fenton's hand slipped into Laura's. His was as cold as hers and she squeezed back. They watched as the car sped across the short distance between the boys and came to rest against Joe's bare foot.

No one moved as Joe stared down at the dinky car and then he slowly stooped down and picked the toy up. He held it in his hand; his blue eyes flickered a gaze over it for a few moments and then he started to tremble. "No," he whispered. "No."

"Joey?" Laura released Fenton's hand and moved towards her distraught child. She couldn't stand to see one of her children so agitated. She knelt down in front of him, relieved when he didn't move away. "Baby?"

Tears streaked the child's face. Tentatively, with his free hand, he reached out to touch her face. Laura closed her eyes briefly at the contact, her chest so tight it hurt. "It's okay, Joey," she quietly promised, "Mommy's here. Everything's going to be okay."

And then the little boy dived towards her, burrowing his wet face against the crook of her neck as he sobbed. "Mommy…Mommy…"

Laura held on tight, her own emotion shaking her just as intensely as his.

…

Behind them, Fenton wrapped his own arms around Frank and pulled him close.

"You did good, son," he praised, "real good."

Frank beamed and sighed against his father, his young chest bursting with pride and happiness. He had his little brother back and everyone was smiling. Now things could return to normal.


	17. Chapter 17

Sorry for the delay but I've been pretty sick and in and out of the hospital since New Year's Eve, so no I haven't lost interest or abandoned this story. Please just bare with me as I continue to get better and have time, once again, to work on this. And as always, thank you Red Hardy for the great beta, and if you haven't read her stories yet - why not?? She is a major Joe-angst/owie writer and completes every story she starts!!

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 17

"Frank, can you stay with your brother while your mother and I get things sorted out so we can take Joey home?" Fenton asked quietly, skimming a hand through the silky dark hair of his older son as he watched over the rest of his family in the privacy of Joe's hospital room.

Laura sat on the edge of the bed with Joe neatly tucked into her side, his bowed head pressed against her. Her arms wrapped tightly around him, offering him both protection and support. The child had mostly calmed down but still kept himself firmly affixed to his mother, accepting only comfort from her. Fenton knew he shouldn't feel bothered by that, but he was; his own rejection by Joe an open wound.

A look of panic flooded the blond boy's face and he immediately glanced up at Laura, unbridled worry stuttering his words. "Y-you're…l-leaving m-me?" His terror sucked the air out of the room.

"Oh no, sweetie," she rushed to assure and Fenton's heart ached at the lost look on his son's face. He _needed_ to get Joe out of this place. "We just want to take you home…" she smiled and gently caressed her little boy's face, "you do want to come home, Joey, don't you?"

The child didn't correct her about his name.

Tears brimmed in the bright blue eyes. "But – but…" he stammered, "I can't!"

"You can't?" Fenton pretended not to notice the way his son stiffened at the sound of his voice. "What do you mean you can't?"

The door opening behind them interrupted the child before he could answer and it took every bit of resolve the detective had not to shove the intruder out when he finally felt like he could talk to his son. The 'intruder' was Dr. Jared and he gave a sheepish smile, like he knew he had interrupted _progress – _and then immediately introduced the tall, skinny beanpole of a man standing behind him. "Mr. Hardy, Mrs. Hardy?" he acknowledged the children, "Boys… This is Dr. Scoffield and, if it's okay with y'all, he'd like to talk to Jason a bit."

"_Joey_," Frank asserted suddenly, startling Fenton with the impertinence of his tone. "His name is Joey."

"Frank," Fenton's own voice was low and held a note of warning. His older son was usually more respectful of adults. The dark haired boy glanced up and him and _actually_ scowled. The man wondered what was up with that.

Joe looked at his brother with an unreadable look on his face.

"Joey?" Dr. Jared looked at Fenton and raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been witness to Laura's cathartic breakthrough with the child. The detective gave a dismissive shrug – it was his son's real name after all. "Okay then. Well young Joseph – "

"_Joey._" Now Frank sounded pissed, and Fenton rested a hand on his son's shoulder, a gentle reminder to behave himself.

"I'm sorry," the young doctor actually looked amused. "Joey it is. So, _Joey_," he raised an eyebrow and waited for Frank's nod of approval before continuing, "is it okay if this nice man talks to you a bit while your Mom and Dad take care of some paperwork? They'll just be across the hall."

The blond boy looked up at his mother and Laura gave him a gentle squeeze, "It'll be okay, sweetie. I promise."

"We'll be just outside the door," Fenton added. Joe glanced at him briefly and the man shivered under the coldness of the look. It was almost as if Joey hated him…

"I'll stay," Frank slipped out from his father's grasp and went to stand by his brother. He jutted his chin out in a strangely defiant pose. "I ain't leaving!"

Fenton saw the subtle curl of Joe's fingers around the tiny toy car he still clutched in his hand as he listened to his brother speak, and then slowly the tension-filled body seemed to relax just a bit and for the first time since his reunion with his mother, the blond boy actually let her go. He straightened up a bit and nodded slightly. "'Kay," he mumbled and Fenton knew that was about as good as they'd ever get.

"All right then," Dr. Jared was instantly ushering the elder Hardy's from the room, a bright smile assuring Fenton and Laura that it would be fine. "Let's get those discharge papers ready!"

…

"So what do you want to talk to him about?" Frank immediately demanded as soon as his parents were out of earshot. He wasn't keen on the idea of someone maybe mixing up Joe's head any worse than it seemed to be already mixed up.

The doctor appeared unsurprised by Frank's belligerence. "About you, actually. You and your parents…is that okay with you?"

"Me?" the little boy canted his head and then challenged. "What'd I do?" Beside him he felt the weight of his brother's gaze and it solidified his determination to keep himself between Joe and this man. He wasn't going to let anyone else try to take his sibling away.

"Nothing," the doctor crossed his legs – _boy were they ever long_ – and then leaned back in the seat, making himself more comfortable. He reminded Frank of a scarecrow. "I'm just more worried that your little brother," the man gave Joe an acknowledging nod, "might be a bit confused about things right now and I'm hoping maybe I can help get him sorted out—" The doctor paused and then added, "With your help of course."

Frank pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. It sounded okay. Twisting slightly he appraised his younger brother. _Well, it couldn't hurt_, he supposed. Turning back to the doctor he gave a dismissive shrug and then sat down next to his brother, giving Joe an odd look when the kid moved away slightly.

The doctor immediately addressed Joe. His voice was oddly compelling. "I bet you're kinda confused about all this, huh?"

The dark haired boy opened his mouth to protest – _what kinda way was that to start a talk?_ – but then shut it when the man held up a hand against his protest. "And it's probably pretty scary right now too…" Frank scowled, unsure how this could help his brother. "But I just want you to know that no matter what, Joey, it's okay. You're safe and no one is going to let anything happen to you. _No one._"

Joe's teeth worried his bottom lip for a moment as he sucked in a breath. Frank expected the younger boy to say something but then the kid gave a slight shake of his head, seeming to change [to his mind, and started to fiddle with the edge of the bed sheet.

Frank glanced at the doctor and noticed the man's eyes were almost green as they watched the younger Hardy intently. And then Dr. Scoffield pursed his lips. "Hmmm…I get the feeling that there's something on your mind, young one. Something big." He rubbed his chin. "Well, did you know the best way to shrink down problems is to share them?" Joe still refused to say anything. The doctor gave Frank a serious look and then grinned. "Hey, is that a '67 Impala?"

Both boys looked down at the toy Joe was holding.

"Sweet!" the man continued, startling Frank with his enthusiasm. "That is one awesome car – can I see it?" He held out his hand.

Joe hesitated for a moment and then held out the toy.

"My dad used to own a car like this." He held the tiny Impala in his hand with exaggerated reverence, "I remember him taking us for long rides in the country every Sunday afternoon, after church. Boy that car was butch."

"Butch?" Frank crinkled up his nose and looked at his brother. Joe shrugged his shoulders, obviously having no more clue about the word than the older boy did.

"Yeah. You know – _happening_. _Cool_?" Those words sounded out of place coming from the mouth of the doctor. "The car had a V8 engine – when my dad gave it the gas, it blew the doors off anything within fifty feet!"

Joe laughed. Actually laughed and Frank found himself smiling as the younger boy suddenly doubled over, holding his stomach, "_V8_? Your car drank juice?"

"Juice?" the man paused and then started to chuckle, "not V8 _juice_, silly, a V8 engine – there's a pretty big difference… although with the way that guzzler chewed gas, I bet my old man wished it ran on juice!"

"I don't like V8 juice," Joe suddenly confided as he wrinkled up his nose. "It looks like blood."

"Since when?" Frank frowned. "You like everything."

"I do not!" the younger boy protested, his piercing gaze firmly fixed on his brother. "I hate lots of stuff!"

"Like what?" Frank challenged, not really believing Joe. After all, he knew everything about his brother.

"Like V8 juice! And butter—"

"It's me that don't like butter," the older boy butted in, not willing to accept that his brother might have changed. "You love butter! You even put butter on waffles – and that is just gross!"

"Boys—" the good doctor tried to interject –

"I do NOT!"

And was ignored.

"Do TOO!"

"I. Do. NOOOOOT!" Joe slid off the bed, put his hands on his hips and glared at Frank. Frank, not to be outdone, mirrored the posture, pleased to see that he still had some size advantage over his brother.

"TOOOO!"

"_**BOYS!" **_

The doctor's shout startled both children. Frank immediately turned to the 'threat' as Joe moved closer to his brother –

"Boys," the man repeated, much more calmly, but before he could say anything else the door burst open and Fenton was in the room.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his eyes quickly taking in the scene. "Frank? Joey?"

"We're okay, Dad," Frank answered, not really eager to spill any details. _Arguing with your little brother less than ten minutes after you'd been left alone with him probably wouldn't go over too well…_

"I'm sorry," Dr. Scoffield explained, "our conversation just got a bit loud, I'm afraid. Nothing to be worried about…. Finish up the paperwork." He made shooing motions with his hands. "Go. Go!"

Fenton seemed hesitant but then gave a conceding nod and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Why'd you lie?" Joe asked after his father had gone.

"Lie?" The man asked before Frank could. "What do you mean? What lie?"

"You didn't tell him we were arguing," the blond boy shrugged matter-of-factly. "That's lying. Would he get mad?"

"Lying would have been if I said nothing happened, which isn't what I said. I said our conversation just got a bit loud – isn't that what happened?" Frank's gaze shifted between the man and his brother.

Joe seemed to consider that for a moment and then sighed. "I don't know…" He rubbed his head. "Sometimes it's hard to keep it figured out."

"Keep what figured out?" Dr. Scoffield pressed.

"Everything," the little boy admitted. "I just get so confused…"

"Confused? What are you getting confused about, Joey?" the doctor coaxed gently; when the child didn't answer, he crouched down to look the child in the face. "Who's confusing you?"

"Daddy," Joe whispered as he lowered his eyes and refused to look at Frank or the doctor.

"Dad?" Frank was stunned. _That didn't make sense, why would Dad be confusing Joey?_

"Not _our_ Daddy," blue eyes blinked back brightness. "My Daddy."

Frank opened his mouth to protest but the doctor put a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. "That's good, Joey, very good…. Let's talk about _your_ Daddy…"

"My Daddy?" Joe wrapped his arms around his thin body and hugged tight. "_My_ Daddy scares me."

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Sorry for the delay but a hospital stay and then recuperation time got in the way but here is the next chapter and I hope you enjoy it!

**Little Boy Lost**

**Chapter 18**

Dr. Scoffield met Fenton and Laura outside Joe's hospital room. His face was grim. "Can I have a few minutes?" he asked needlessly as he tipped his head back at the closed door. "The boys will be fine."

The worried parents nodded and followed him further down the hall where youthful ears wouldn't accidentally overhear them but they could still see Joe's room door.

"First I want to say your sons are an exceptional pair of boys," the tall doctor wasted no time, "the bond between them is glaring even if Joe's memories of his brother, and consequently the both of you, have been brutalized during his abduction."

Laura paled and leaned into Fenton for support. The idea that her baby had been 'brutalized' twisted something sour in her stomach. Immediately her husband wrapped a strong arm around her slender frame and pulled her against him. He voiced their fears "_Brutalized?_ Dr. Jared didn't seem to feel Joe had been abused—"

"I'm sorry," the child psychologist quickly inserted, "I don't mean to imply that Joe was literally 'injured' _per_ _se_, what I'm actually talking about was the mental work-over his abductor, his _'daddy'_ put him through… And that's what I wanted to talk to you about." The man waited until both Hardys nodded before continuing. "The man who took Joe terrified him into submission. He threatened horrible things on the three of you, and even Joe himself, if the child ever even thought about his old life. And that little boy is still running scared, confused and frightened that his 'Daddy' is going to make good on those threats."

"Brain washing?" Fenton supplied, his brown eyes dark with unbridled anger. The arm around Laura tightened unconsciously.

"Yes," the doctor didn't deny it.

"That's why he was adamant about being 'Jason'," Laura added sadly, her own body thrumming with a need to see both her boys again. It felt like so long since she'd left the room.

"Yes," the doctor nodded. "Children Joe's age are prime targets for brainwashing, unfortunately. Fear is a huge motivator especially in a young child as there is so little in their control, and unfortunately, the man who took your son was a very manipulative monster. He didn't need to beat Joe, not when he could use your son's love for his family as just a more effective weapon than his fists."

"Okay," Laura pressed, "what can we do to help Joe? How can we get our little boy back?"

"Laura—" Fenton's voice was hesitant and she turned to him.

"Oh no you don't, Fenton…" she shook her head and then narrowed her gaze at her husband. "You are not going to tell me it's not possible," Laura spared a glare for the other man, "neither of you! I am going to get my baby back. _I am._ I just need to know how to start."

After a startled pause, a smile twisted the corner of Dr. Scoffield's mouth. "An attitude like that will definitely help. Joe is going to need a lot of reassurance and, coddling if you will, to help regain his trust that being with you is forever. He'll need constant reassurance that you love him and that he is safe. However," he raised an eyebrow to stress this point, "you also need to remember that he isn't the same little boy who disappeared from your lives two years ago, and to expect him to be would be putting an unfair amount of pressure on him in an already emotionally difficult situation. You'll need to be there and be consistent and persistent while allowing him to be who he is now, and not who he was then."

"We can do that," Laura hurried out, willing to do or be whatever Joe needed.

"I'm sure you can," the doctor agreed slowly, his eyes appraising the young mother, and then they sharpened and he asked, "but what about Frank? Can he? He's only a child himself and I can already tell you he is expecting his little brother back the way he used to be."

Fenton and Laura looked at each other. The doctor was right – Frank was only a child himself. How could he be expected to understand the ramifications of this and then adjust? Would that be asking too much?

"I-I dunno," Laura finally stammered, suddenly finding herself questioning just how much they should expect from Frank. For two years they had thought about nothing except finding Joe and bringing him home, and now that it was happening, she was reminded that there were actually two little boys who had been lost in this. It wasn't only Joe who had been reshaped by this. She turned to her husband again. "Fenton?"

The detective's eyes took on a faraway look as he seemed to give his older son some serious thought and then slowly he nodded his head. "I think he can. As you've said yourself, our sons are exceptional and I can tell you this, the one thing Frank has never stopped being in all this time is Joe's big brother, and I'm more than confident that if we sit down and explain this to Frank he'll not only understand but be one of his brother's biggest champions."

Something inside calmed and Laura squeezed her husband's arm as she smiled. Of course Frank could handle this. If there was one thing her first born had proven himself adept in, it was anything Joe.

"All right then," the doctor nodded, "let's go see your boys."

…

"So," Frank hedged as he leaned against the side of the bed and glanced at his brother, "you don't like butter, huh?"

Joe shrugged as he picked at a loose strand on the hem of his t-shirt. "I guess."

"You guess?" the older boy crinkled up his nose, "either you do or you don't. I don't like it at all. It's slimy!"

"Slimy?" the blond boy actually giggled. "Worms are slimy."

"Yeah and so's butter," Frank persisted unable to keep from grinning at his brother.

"I like butter," Joe admitted shyly after a moment. A quick dart of blue eyes met Frank's dark one's briefly before the little boy glanced back down at his hands as they continued to fiddle with his t-shirt. "And salt."

"Salt's bad for your blood pressure," Frank reprimanded and then scowled, "how come you said you didn't like butter if you do?"

"I dunno," Joe shrugged again. "Sometimes I get confused."

"Because of your," Frank choked on the word, "_Daddy?_"

"I guess," the blond boy's voice dropped and then he glanced up at Frank, shyly. "I used to dream that I had a big brother."

"Really?" Frank perked up, "And what we'd do?"

"Oh, lots of stuff," Joe was suddenly animated, his blue eyes wide with excitement as he rushed out, "we'd go swimming and play on the monkey-bars. We'd play hide-n-go-seek and make paper airplanes and—" the child suddenly clammed up.

"And?" Frank persisted. "What else?"

"And," Joe dropped his eyes again and blushed, "you took care of me when I was afraid."

"Well duh," the older boy stated matter-of-factly, "That's what good big brothers do."

"But," the blond boy challenged as he sized up his 'big' brother, "you're not much bigger than me!"

Frank immediately straightened up, folded his arms across his chest and glared at his brother. "How old are you?"

"What?" Joe asked, taken aback.

"How old are you?" the older boy repeated and then indicated impatiently, "it's not a hard question, Joe!"

Joe frowned. "I'm eight."

"And I'm nine so that makes me the big brother," Frank asserted, his dark eyes shining with sudden intensity, "always…"

The blond boy seemed to consider that for a few moments and then he slowly nodded, "Okay." He cocked his head to the side and then grinned. "But if I get bigger than you one day can I be the big brother?"

"Nope," Frank shook his head vehemently, "you'll just be the big_ger_ brother!" And for some reason that made Joe burst out laughing. His laughter was infectious and the older boy soon found himself laughing along, although for the life of him he had no idea what was so funny, and then their parents opened the room door.

"Boys?" their mother smiled warmly at them, "you ready to go home?"

"Yes!" Frank shouted as he bolted away from the bed and towards the door and then stopped and looked back at his brother. "Joe?"

Joe just stood there. Frank chewed his lip as he glanced at his parents. They shared a worried look but before either could say anything else, he'd already made a big brother decision.

"C'mon, little brother," he encouraged as he held out his hand, "we'll do this together…just like in your dreams."

Another moment of uncertainty flickered across the younger boy's face and then Joe latched onto Frank's hand and nodded. His voice, when he spoke, was a mere whisper but the nine year old had no trouble hearing him. "Just like in my dreams…"

Frank beamed up at his relieved looking parents as he escorted Joe out of the room. "Mom? Dad? Can we get some ice cream on the way home?"

…

Dr. Scoffield watched the young family leave the hospital. He chewed on the end of his pencil as he considered them. The road ahead of them was definitely going to be a rocky one but he had a very good feeling that if anyone was up to the challenge, it was the Hardys.

Dr. Jared came to stand beside him. He glanced at his colleague. "You know," the young doctor, "sometimes there are happy endings."

"Hmmm," the taller man mused, "depends on your definition of happy…c'mon, I'll let you buy me a coffee…"

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 19

Joe was exhausted. He rubbed his eyes and stared out the window as the car wound into the suburbs of Bayport. Nothing looked familiar and with each passing moment, he just felt more anxious.

He thought about the woman he'd known as his mother for the past two years and felt his eyes burn. He was so confused – he had two mothers and he wanted them both.

"So what'd'ja think?" Frank's voice startled Joe and he jerked towards his brother, hastily scrubbing at his eyes so the other boy wouldn't see he was upset. But Frank wasn't looking at him now, he was staring and pointing out the front window towards a large, two story house as the car turned into the driveway.

Joe felt a jolt of fear –

'_This is your home now,' Daddy growled as he towered over the sick boy, 'if you even think about that other place, I'll burn it to the ground – do you hear me, boy? To the ground!'_

The car had barely stopped and the blond boy out the back door before he was on his knees, retching in the grass.

Laura's hand on his back and Frank's concerned voice echoed around him. Joe scrunched his eyes closed and jerked away. His mother persisted and pulled him back towards her, wrapping her arms around his body and rocking him gently. It took him a moment to realize she was humming something – something familiar…

_Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mommy's gonna buy you a mocking bird…_

For the second time in so few hours, the eight year old turned around and buried himself in this mother.

"Laura?" Fenton's voice made him stiffen. "Let me take him—"

"No!" Joe shoved away from his mother and stood up. He felt the familiar rush of panic, the desperate need to get away. He shouldn't be here!

'_I'll kill'em all!'_

But Frank grabbed his arm and pulled eagerly. Joe fought briefly but then deflated – he liked Frank. So reluctantly the child followed but he glanced warily at Fenton as he passed. If his brother noticed, he didn't say anything. "C'mon, Joey, I'm hungry."

The blond boy started. His mouth dropped in surprise. "But – but you just had ice cream!"

"Yeah," Frank challenged, almost towing him up the front steps now, "what's your point?"

Joe just shook his head mutely. The rules had all changed again.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Fenton watched the children head towards the front door. He glanced at his wife, "What was all that about?"

Laura chewed her lip thoughtfully and then shook her head. She reached back in the car for her purse and then hurried to catch up as the boys were now waiting outside the locked door.

The detective followed more slowly after making sure all the car doors were locked. Joe's reaction to him was unsettling and he wondered if he should take it personally. Was his son actually recoiling from him, or from the way he was treated by his male abductor?

He sighed and not for the first time, wished to God he had never let Joe walk out that door.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Two apples later, Frank took Joe on a 'tour' of the house, ending with their bedrooms.

Joe walked into his room and looked around. It was bigger than his other room and he slowly walked around, checking out the closet, running his finger along the comforter, peeking in the bureau drawers. He frowned and looked at Frank, "I don't have any clothes." He spoke softly and now it was the dark-haired boy's turn to frown. He wasn't used to a reticent little brother.

Frank came over and looked. He frowned for a moment and then grinned. "Guess you get to go naked then!"

The younger boy was mortified and just stared at the bigger boy. _He can't be serious?_

"I'm just fooling ya," his brother grinned and Joe could finally breathe again. "I got some stuff you can wear until Mom and Dad take you shopping."

"Shopping?" Joe actually squeaked. Now he was truly horrified. "I c-can't go shopping!" The few trips he'd been on out of sheer necessity always began with his _Daddy_ taking him to the side and thoroughly threatening what would happen if Joe tried to get away. By the time they'd get to the store, the kid would almost be hyperventilating. "I can't, Frank, I just can't!" He was shaking his head and backed away from the open drawer.

"Hey, take it easy," Frank held up his hands to placate as Joe suddenly found it hard to breathe. "It ain't so bad!" His brown eyes tracked Joe as he continued to back away until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sat down. "Mom always takes us to McDonalds's™ afterwards."

"McDonald's™?" That piqued Joe's interest. His other Mom had taken him there once. His Daddy, in a rare moment of something, had even let him keep the toy. "Really?" His blue eyes lit up. "Could I get a toy?"

Frank laughed. "Well duh. Every Happy Meal comes with one."

Joe sighed wearily and let himself fall back on the bed. He felt the bed dip and knew his brother had sat down beside him.

"Can I ask you something?" The cautious note in Frank's voice set off a warning bell. "Without you freaking out?" That didn't help.

The blond boy turned onto his side and slowly pulled his legs up towards his body. He hugged himself and then shrugged. "'Kay." It came out as a whisper.

"What's wrong with you?"

Joe blinked – okay, he hadn't been expecting that. He twisted his head to look at his brother. "What?"

Dark brown eyes held his gaze steadily. "You weren't like this before."

The younger boy frowned but before he could answer, a soft voice from the doorway interrupted. "Frank, why don't you let your brother lie down for a bit – it's been a pretty exciting day for him." Her eyes softened as she looked at Joe and the little boy felt something tighten in his chest, "for us all." She came into the room and stood by the bed. "We'll be right downstairs if you need us, okay?"

Joe nodded and closed his eyes, grateful for the alone time, but conflicted at the same time as he heard them leave and had to stop himself from chasing after them.

He just hoped this wasn't all a dream and that when he woke up, he was somewhere else…

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

"Frank, honey, your dad and I need to talk to you," Laura said quietly as they moved down the stairs. The little boy frowned and she quickly added, "Don't worry, you're not in any trouble, we just need to talk to you about Joey."

The nine year old scowled as he followed his mother into the kitchen and saw his father was already sitting at the table drinking a coffee. His mother poured him a glass of chocolate milk and then sat down next to Frank; her hand brushed his hair gently before she picked up her own steaming mug and took a sip. _Tea_, Frank figured.

"Frank," his father started with a sigh as he ran a hand absently through his own dark hair, "we're going to need your help with your brother." Instantly, the man had his full attention, chocolate milk forgotten. "The people who had Joe mixed him up a lot. They made him think terrible things would happen to me, you and your mom if we ever found him—"

"Is that why he keeps freaking out?" Frank interrupted as he leaned towards his father, anxious to find out what was going on. His father nodded his head,

"We think so. It's pretty confusing for him now so he's going to need our support while he's figuring all this out." Frank was already nodding. Of course he'd help his brother, duh! His father smiled and kept talking, "before you roll your eyes, you also need to realize that while that little boy upstairs is your brother – he's our Joey – he isn't ever going to be the Joey we remember. He's changed, Frank. He's had two years of growing without us, and it's changed him. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Frank felt his mother rubbing his arm gently and he frowned, not liking what he was hearing anymore. He didn't want Joe changed. He wanted everything to be like it was before Joe disappeared. "But," he started, his eyes burning as he felt like they were taking his brother away from him again, "I don't want him changed."

"Oh sweetie," his mother's voice made him look at her. Her blue eyes searched his face, "that's not possible. Everyone changes but that doesn't mean he's any less your brother. He's just not your six-year-old brother anymore, that's all."

The boy dropped his gaze and fingered the condensation on his glass. He chewed his lip and thought about what they were trying to say. Frank wasn't stupid, he'd already noticed that Joe was different – definitely more emotional, that was for sure – but he just hated hearing that that was the way things had to be. He had been so hoping that once they'd found Joe, their old lives would continue again. His father continued quietly,

"Frank, we're not saying that with enough time, support and understanding, we won't start to see some of our Joey, but we can't pressure him… We have to let him be different and get to know him all over again." Fenton paused and reached out to tip Frank's chin so the nine year old was looking at him again. "Can you do that? Can you let Joey be different?"

Frank slowly nodded his head. Of course he could. This was his little brother they were talking about! His father grinned and ruffled his hair as his mother planted a warm kiss on his cheek, which Frank hastily scrubbed off even as it made him feel very loved –

And then Joe screamed.


	20. Chapter 20

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 20

Joe couldn't sleep. The bed felt weird. Actually everything felt weird, familiar yet strange.

He listened to the low murmur of voices and tried to keep the butterflies out of his stomach as he wondered what they were talking about; him, most likely. He just hoped they still liked him…

Sighing, the child kicked the blankets onto the floor and sat up. Hearing a soft scuffing against the window, he plodded over and pushed the curtains open already knowing that it was the old tree that grew outside the house making the noise. He smiled slightly at a distant memory of a tree swing and wondered if it was still there. But maybe it was just something he'd dreamt it as the lines between his imagination and reality were a little blurred right now and he hoped his brother came back soon.

Frank helped. It wasn't anything Joe could put his finger on, but having the older boy around helped ground the child, reminding him that this was real and that he didn't have to be afraid. It never even occurred to Joe why he trusted Frank so easily. He just did.

And then he saw a man standing on the sidewalk outside the house and all the blood drained from his face as his heart started to pound –

_No!!_

The man saw him –

It was Daddy!

Joe screamed.

_ooooooOOOOOOoooooo_

Fenton Hardy got to the room first, Laura and Frank right behind him.

Banging the door open, he charged in and then froze as Joe frantically pointed out the window, "He's here! Daddy's here!"

The near hysterical child practically danced on the spot and Laura pushed past Fenton in her haste to get to him jarring the detective into action. Turning swiftly, the man thundered back down the stairs and out the front door, determined to see what had spooked his son so badly. It couldn't be Nestor Watersmith, he was in jail, but the child had seen someone and Fenton wanted to know who.

…

"It's okay baby," Laura cooed as she wrapped her arms around the child and pulled him close, easily feeling the pounding heart in his slight frame. "It's okay."

Joe let her hold him for a moment and then pushed away, his blue eyes searching hers as he shook his head. "It's not! Don't you see, he's here! He's going to hurt you! He told me! He told me!!"

Frank peeked out the window and then turned back towards them. "Joey?" his voice was hesitant and his dark eyes wary. "I don't see no one."

"But – but…" the blond boy stammered and then hurried back to the window, Laura let him go. "He was here. Right here." He glanced between his brother and mother. "I saw him. I did!"

"Sweetie," Laura's heart broken for the terrified child. "I think you saw someone…" The sound of the phone ringing interrupted and she gave him an apologetic look and addressed Frank. "Watch your brother," she instructed softly and moved into the hall to answer the phone. "Hardy Residence…"

…

Fenton searched both sides of the street but saw no one and heard nothing. He knew it couldn't have been Joe's abductor but wasn't ready to just easily dismiss his son's distress, positive the child had seen someone.

Finally he just stopped and slowly turned around. His chest heaved from exertion and he berated himself for being out of shape, even if it wasn't true. He hated to have to go back and tell them he'd found nothing but after a few minutes, that was what he had to do.

…

"You sure you saw him?" Frank asked. His mother was still on the phone and the two boys continued to look out the window. They watched as their father slowly walked back towards the house. "It might have been someone else."

"No," Joe was insistent as he shook his head. "It was him."

Frank considered his brother for a moment and then frowned. "And he wants to hurt us?"

Joe nodded miserably. "He said if I ever got away, he'd kill you guys."

The older boy paled and swallowed hard. "That's not very nice!"

"He's like that sometimes," his brother admitted.

"But not all the times?" Curiosity got the better of the older boy and even though he knew he wasn't supposed to press, he had to ask.

"Well…" Joe appeared to think about his answer. "Sometimes I don't think he really cares. My mom does though. She always cares."

Frank scowled. "She's not your mom," he corrected, "She's just some stupid lady who took you away! She doesn't care!"

"You don't say that about her," the younger boy suddenly stormed, "she does too!"

"But she's not your real mom!" Frank yelled back angry that Joe would defend that strange woman but before the other child could do more than open his mouth, the bedroom door opened and a white-faced Laura rushed into the room.

"Downstairs, boys, now!"

The heat of the moment was lost in the face of their mother's obvious distress.

"Mom?" Frank asked uncertainly, even as he pushed a startled looking Joe ahead of him and they followed Laura out of the room. "What's wrong?'

"Nothing, Frank, nothing. Just… look…" She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned towards the two children behind her. "It's just something's come up and we need to go away for a bit." Frank glanced down in surprise as he felt a cold hand slip into his. He looked at his brother, saw the fear on his face, and gave the cold hand a reassuring squeeze. He had no more idea than the younger kid what was going on but he felt the need to try to make Joe feel better anyway.

"Where are we going?" he asked, baffled by his mother's behavior. His sharp mind knew it must have had something to do with the phone call she'd received, he just didn't know what. And then a chilling thought coursed through his nine-year old body – maybe Joe was right. Maybe he had seen his kidnapper. Fenton had told them that the man was in jail but sometimes people got out of jail.

As if reading his brother's thoughts, Joe questioned quietly, "It's my Daddy, isn't it? You saw him too."

Laura immediately shook her head as she reached out and cupped his pale face, Frank watched in rapt fascination as his brother seemed to melt under her touch. "No baby, I didn't _see_ him but…" she paused as the door behind her opened and Fenton strode inside. She turned back to the boys. "But he isn't in jail anymore."

"What?!" Fenton's voice boomed and Joe jumped.

"Fenton!" Laura admonished as she whirled to her feet. She looked significantly at the blond boy and the detective instantly apologized.

"Sorry boys, didn't mean to scare you," he looked at his wife and asked more reasonably this time, "What do you mean Watersmith isn't in jail anymore?"

"Officer Riley just called. Apparently there was some sort of commotion during a prisoner transfer and Nestor got away. They think he's going to come after Joe."

"Not me," Joe shook his head in denial. "He doesn't want me." He looked at Frank and then his parents, his eyes wide with fear. "He wants to hurt _you_."

Fenton stooped down in front of his sons, "Joey," he spoke softly, "That isn't going to happen. I won't let it. He isn't going to hurt me, your Mommy, your brother or you. Ever again. I won't let him."

A surprisingly hard look crossed Joe's face. He pulled his hand away from Frank's and scowled at their father. "_You_ can't stop him," he announced. "You didn't stop him before and you won't stop him now!"

…

Fenton felt sucker punched. Suddenly so many things slid into place. Joe_ blamed_ him. He blamed him for letting Nestor abduct him two years ago. _Oh dear God,_ he mentally anguished, _and now he doesn't trust me to keep him safe. _

"Joe!" Laura admonished but the man shook his head and put his hand on her arm and squeezed gently.

"Son," he addressed the fire in his son's piercing blue eyes. "I know you aren't ready to believe me… but I promise you this, _that man will not touch us_." His voice burned with conviction. "Since the day he took you I've never stopped looking and now that we got you back, I am not going to lose anything else to him…. _Ever. _ IF he wants to come here looking for trouble than I promise you this, Joey, I'm going to give it to him. He doesn't get you back." He purposefully let his jacket slip open and saw Joe blink in shock when he saw the gun in the shoulder holster. "Do you understand?"

The child's eyes were fixed on the gun, he looked like he was barely breathing. Fenton hooked a finger under Joe's jaw and tilted his gaze up to his. His voice softened and he repeated. "Do you understand?"

Tears glittered in the child's eyes and then suddenly he was throwing his arms around Fenton's neck and squeezing tight. His voice was a whispered 'Yes' against the man's neck and he carefully wrapped his arms around his son and held tight.

He knew everything wasn't all better between them yet – the perceived betrayal was too deep – but it was a start, an open door. And Fenton was determined to do whatever it took to make sure that door was never closed again…

And heaven help Nestor Watersmith if Fenton saw him first.


	21. Chapter 21

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 21

Nestor Watersmith was furious. The little brat had seen him. _Damnit all to hell._ That complicated things. Didn't make it impossible but definitely complicated things.

He'd been hoping to get into the house unseen but all that was out the window now. Now he'd have to come up with something else.

The incensed man really didn't have it figured out much beyond getting into the house, only having had the time it took to get from the jailhouse to the Hardy's home to formulate a plan. His escape had been an unexpected blessing; one he intended to take full advantage of.

Poor Erma. His beloved wife. Still stuck behind bars, being treated like a criminal just because she dared love a child. A child they considered their own. Well she considered it. Nestor? It was just something he'd gotten to make her happy.

He never intended to take the kid but after their own blond haired boy, Jason Watersmith, died in a house fire, Erma had become despondent and Nestor was desperate to do whatever it took to get his loving wife back. And when he'd seen little Joe Hardy, a smaller but rather similar version of his own dead son, the man had to have the boy for Erma. So he took him.

Again, rare luck allowed the child to be walking unattended when Nestor spied him and once again, as the man spared a thought about his 'luck', he decided the good Lord himself was behind the blessings. Now he just had to get the brat back.

His mind worked rapidly and he smiled. It would be brilliant. He'd use the child as a bargaining chip to get his wife freed and once they were a family again, he'd take them somewhere secluded and kill them. Erma could not live without the kid nor Nestor without her and now that the Hardys were back in the picture, he knew they'd receive no peace so this was the only way. The only way he could guarantee that they'd never be separated again.

He'd kill Erma first as he didn't want his wife's last memory to be watching the kid die. And then he'd off the brat and himself. But first things first though, he had to get Jason.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

"Fenton?" Laura pulled her husband away from the children, "What are we going to do? We can't stay here. You know he'll come after Joey, you know it!" Her bright blue eyes were wide with worry and fear. She'd only just gotten her baby back.

The detective turned towards her and gently grasped her forearms. "It's okay, Laura," he assured her softly, "Like I told Joey, he isn't getting near either of you."

"That's wonderful," the pretty blond was caustic, "but now, really, what are we going to do?"

Fenton glanced towards the children who were standing together watching them with large eyes, "Well, firstly, nothing that is going to scare them." Looking slightly chagrined, Laura raised an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. "And then you're going to start getting the boys ready for bed while I call the police and find out what's going on. Afterwards, I'll come upstairs and give you a hand."

"But-" she opened her mouth to protest but Fenton shook his head slightly.

"No buts. If we try to leave this house we'll just be putting ourselves in the open. There is too much that a psychopath could do while we're on route somewhere else. Plus this is our house. No one knows it better than we do and once I put the alarm on, there is no way Watersmith is getting in here." The sound of police sirens in the background made him smirk, "But if he tries, we're going to nail his ass to the wall." He hooked a finger under her chin and gently lifted it as he looked deeply into her eyes, his voice held no less conviction than it had moments before when he was speaking to Joe, "He isn't getting past me. I promise."

Feeling somewhat mollified by his certainty, Laura let out a shaky breath and gave a small nod with her head. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

…

"Good," the detective flashed her a cocky smile as he winked and then turned back to his sons, "Now that that's all sorted, why don't you boys head up stairs with your Mom, while I make a few phone calls and see what I can come up with."

Joe opened his mouth and then cast his older brother a tentative little look. Taking it that he wanted to say something but was unsure, Fenton addressed the child directly. "Joey? Something on your mind, son?"

The kid blushed and glanced down at his stocking clad feet. To Fenton's mild amusement, the little boy actually ground one of his toes into the carpet. It was only when Frank gave him a gentle prompt in the way of a poke in the shoulder, did Joe lift his head and ask quietly, "Can you put the alarm on first?"

Fenton's heart broke for the traumatized child but rather than answering him, he just gave a sad smile and moved towards the front door. Making sure his son could see, he carefully set the alarm and then glanced back. He rose an eyebrow in an unasked question and Joe gave him a quick smile and even quicker head nod.

"Good," he grinned, closing the alarm cover and giving his family his full attention again, "Okay, get your little cabooses upstairs and get ready for bed. I'll be up in a few minutes."

"Cabooses?" The children giggled as they hurried up the stairs with Laura following close. Frank added, "That's a good one, Dad!" and then disappeared with the sound of running feet.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Fenton waited a moment longer and then hurried towards his study – he had some phone calls to make.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

"Our Daddy is pretty silly," Joe giggled as he followed his brother into Frank's room.

"Yeah," Frank agreed, "he's pretty cool."

As Laura turned on the water in the tub, Frank yanked open a bureau drawer and pulled out two sets of pajamas. He looked at his brother, "Batman or Spiderman?"

Joe's eyes widened in awe. "You got both of them?"

Frank rolled his eyes, "Well, duh, which one?"

Bright blue eyes darted from one set to the other. He worried his lip but couldn't seem to make up his mind. After a whole half minute, Frank sighed and shook his head. "Why don't you just wear the Spiderman ones? You're not Batman material." Joe frowned, crossed his arms and refused to take the offered clothing.

"And why not?" he demanded angrily.

"'Cause," Frank explained, his voice tinged with slight frustration, "Batman's older that's why!"

"Older?" The frown grew puzzled as the kid tilted his head to the side, "how'd you know he's older?"

"Because he's older than Robin," Frank announced matter-of-factly. Joe considered him for another moment, then shrugged and took the Spiderman pajamas.

"Okay," he agreed amicably and then Laura's voice was calling Frank into the bathroom.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Joe watched his brother go, a look of growing trepidation on his face.

Was he supposed to get naked in front of _Laura_?

His heart started to pound.

What if she wanted to stay in the room?

Sure, in his heart he knew she was his mom but – still, he hardly knew her!

His breath hiccupped as his eyes darted to the window, half afraid he'd see Nestor looking in at him, and then back towards the bathroom. Could this day get any worse?

And then the door opened and Laura stepped back into the room.

"Frank, put your dirty clothes in the hamper," she called over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her. "Not on the floor." She turned towards Joe and the smile died on her lips. "Baby? What's wrong?"

Relief flooded the child as he realized he was wrong. Laura wasn't going to stay in the bathroom with him.

As the woman dropped to her knees in front of him, he shook his head, managing a weak smile for her. "M'okay," he mumbled, sniffing hard and wiping away one traitorous little tear.

Mirror blue eyes appraised him for a moment, and then Laura reached out and cupped the side of his face gently. Joe leaned into her touch, sighed wearily and closed his eyes.

"You know what?" He forced his eyes open at the softness of her voice. "Why don't you just change into those pajamas and call it a night? I think your bath can wait one night."

Joe met his mother's concerned gaze. "Really?"

Laura smiled warmly, "Really. And," she added, "Frank thinks it'd be a good idea for you to sleep with him tonight. If it's okay-" Arms flung tightly around her neck cut Laura off mid-sentence. Joe couldn't believe that Frank was going to let him sleep with him and he was so relieved his body actually shook.

"Yes, please! Please!" he murmured against her warm throat and felt her arms return his hug no less vigorously. Joe didn't care if they thought he was a big baby, he really didn't want to be alone tonight. Not for his first night in this house after two years, and not with the knowledge that Nestor Watersmith was out of jail and would come after his family.

This way, if nothing else, he might be able to keep _Daddy_ from hurting Frank. Joe wasn't sure how yet, but at least now he'd have a chance…

"All right then," Laura pulled away from him and stood up, "what say I go get an extra blanket while you change and get in bed?"

Joe nodded, waited for her to leave the room and then quickly got out of his clothes and into the pajamas. They were a bit too big but he wasn't going to complain.

He slipped into the bed, pressed his back against the wall and waited for his brother to get out of the bath.

Joe tried to keep his eyes open. He really did. But ten minutes later when a freshly bathed Frank emerged, the blond boy was fast asleep.

A block from the house, Nestor Watersmith watched the lights turn off upstairs. He lit a cigarette, took a deep breath in and slowly let out the smoke.

It was party time.


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to comment. This story is almost done - yay - so I hope you enjoy how it plays out. And thank you to Red Hardy, as always !

**Little Boy Lost**

**Chapter 22**

Joe Hardy lay on his side curled up next to his brother and tried to sleep but Nestor's voice wrapped him in fear.

'_Did you ever see a man burn, Jason?' _

He shivered and moved closer to Frank.

'_Oh the agony, Jason, the smell…'_

Frank mumbled something in his sleep and slung an arm loosely over Joe.

'_And the screaming – that's what they'll do, Jason… they ever find you, I'm going to burn them alive!' _

Gasping, Joe bolted up in bed and scooted away from Frank, like _he'd_ been burned. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

_I can't be here! I can't be here!_

"Joey?" Again Frank mumbled but this time, even in the dark, Joe could tell he'd opened his eyes. "What's wrong?"

The younger boy shook his head, his body trembling with more than cold. He had to get out of here. It didn't matter what Fenton said, his fear of his abductor was stronger than his faith in his father. Nestor had taken him from Fenton before…

A light turned on and Joe blinked against the momentary blindness. Frank had sat up in the bed and turned on the small lamp next to them. The older boy watched him with a frown. "Joey?"

"I- I gotta go," Joe stammered as he slid off the bed and then stood there for a moment unsure where exactly he should go. "Clothes," he continued absently as his frantic gaze combed the room. "I need clothes."

"Whoa," Frank shoved the blankets off his legs and swung them so he was sitting up on the edge of the bed staring at Joe. "Are you nuts?" the nine-year old scoffed. "You can't go anywhere. It's after bedtime."

"You don't understand-" the younger boy protested against reason, his blue eyes glowing in the dim lamp light.

"Sure I do," Frank assured around a yawn, he pawed at his eyes tiredly, "that guy who took you said he was going to hurt us for getting you back."

Joe blinked. How could his brother be so casual about this? Didn't Frank realize just how bad this was?

"Joey," the older boy continued, way too reasonable in Joe's opinion, "don't worry about it, okay? He isn't going to get in here. The alarm is on and Dad won't let him -"

"He let him get me before." The words were so quiet Joe wasn't even sure he'd spoken them aloud until an odd look crossed his brother's face.

"Excuse me?"

Joe huffed and sat back down on the bed next to his brother. He wrung his hands in agitation. "I mean – I know…" the kid let out a heavy sigh. His shoulders drooped, his whole body felt just utterly exhausted. "He didn't find me, Frank," he turned sad blue eyes towards his brother. "_Daddy_ got me and our Daddy didn't find me… for a long time." He amended softly. "What if it happens again?"

Frank blinked at him for a moment and then frowned and shook his head. "It ain't going to happen, Joey." His eyes narrowed darkly, "Na ah, not happening."

"But-"

The older boy crossed his arms defiantly and snorted. "Not happening," he repeated, his tone daring Joe to argue. "'Cause I'm not going to let it!" Joe blinked in shock at the hard conviction in his brother's voice. No nine year old boy should ever sound like that. "I'll keep you safe, Joey… I promise. You're my little brother and I just got you back… No one is taking you away again. _No one._"

The eight year old blinked back a traitorous tear. He _wanted_ so badly to believe what his brother was saying. His gaze skittered towards the window –_ Daddy had been right out there_ – but then Frank's hand was warm on his arm as he gave Joe a gentle shove, pulling his attention back inside the room. "Now enough with the girly stuff… Let's get back in bed and – hey, maybe Mom and Dad'll let us go to Biff's tomorrow. He's got a new Nintendo DS game and it's the coolest, ever!"

Joe didn't know what that was but the way Frank's whole face light up when he spoke about convinced him that it was something he definitely wanted to see. "Do you…" he started hesitantly even as he let himself be pushed back under the covers and towards the wall before Frank's warm body slid in after him. "Do you think Biff'll remember me?"

Frank gave him a disbelieving look right before he reached up and turned the lamp off. "You know, Joey, you ask some pretty stupid questions sometimes…"

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Frank stayed awake long after his brother had fallen asleep. He lay on his back with his hands behind his head and stared up at the dark ceiling. Joe's fears weighed heavy on his young soul as he bit his lip in careful consideration – he'd promised his brother he'd keep him safe but if that horrible man did ever come around, what was Frank going to do? Sure he'd been taking karate lessons for a while now, and he was pretty good even if he did say so himself, but against a much larger and obviously crazy man? Frank wasn't nearly as confident as he felt he should be.

He needed a back up plan.

Twisting on to his side, the dark haired boy regarded his brother. He watched as the thin stream of moonlight that peeked between the curtains illuminated Joe's face and he felt something powerful twitch deep inside his chest. The sound of the doorknob turning had him spinning up in the bed, his heart pounding as he watched the door slowly open, a bitter scream perched on the edge of his lips, if needed. He only relaxed when he saw he recognized his father, obviously coming in to check on them for the night. The young guardian let out a sigh of relief and sank back down beside his brother.

Coming from behind his father, a smaller shadow pushed past and Frank smiled as his mother approached the bed and smiled down at him. She rested her hand for a moment on Frank's cheek and then reached out and caressed a curl away from Joe's forehead. After a quick final kiss on both boys' cheeks, she whispered 'sleep tight' and left the room.

Their father waited until she left and then approached the bed.

"Hey, son," Fenton's voice was hushed but Frank had no trouble hearing it. Beside him, Joe murmured something under his breath but then settled when Frank's arm splayed across his chest.

"Dad?" Frank dared; his words for his father's ears only. "What do I do if he gets in here?" They both knew who 'he' was.

Fenton opened his mouth but Frank rushed on, "I know the alarm is on and you won't let him hurt us but, well… what – what if does get in?" He glanced at his slumbering sibling. "How do I keep Joey safe?"

With a heavy sigh, the man crouched down next to the bed. He seemed to consider what to say before speaking. "Frank," the boy was startled by the thickness of his father's voice. It was as if the great detective was struggling with some emotion. "Son," another sigh and then a gentle clasp on his shoulder. "You do what you've always done… just be his brother. Keep him with you and follow your instincts." He gave Frank's shoulder a squeeze. "I trust you, and more importantly Joe does to."

The boy scowled, that was not what he was looking for.

His father must have seen the look in the darkness because Fenton chuckled, stood up and added, "And at the first sign of trouble, you get yourself and your brother out that window," he tipped his head towards the window, "and up the tree."

Frank grinned and nodded. Out the window. Up the tree. Okay, that was a plan he could work with. He knew the tree was old with heavy foliage and small branches, sturdy enough for a child, or two's weight but a stiff medical bill for an adult.

Placated he closed his eyes and let his father tuck him in. Right now Joe didn't have much faith in their father but that was all right because Frank had enough for both of them.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Fenton slowly closed the door and sighed. He'd never been expecting that, feeling like he'd been sucker punched at his nine year old son's near desperation about protecting his brother. It warmed his heart and terrified him at the time.

Too wound up to even think about sleeping, the detective quietly made his way back downstairs, turning off the lights as he went. He paused at the bottom step and listened. His every instinct was screaming at him – but he heard nothing.

Frustrated, he stood in the living room for a long time and tried to imagine what he would do if he was in Nestor's position. He didn't like where any of those thoughts led.

The bottom line was that he had no idea when, where or even if the man would make his move. Maybe, they'd get lucky and at this exact moment Nestor was on his way to the border – but deep down Fenton didn't believe that for one moment. He'd seen enough to know that Watersmith wouldn't be going anywhere. Not without Joe. And definitely not without his wife.

"What are you thinking, Nestor?" he whispered to the empty room. "What are you going to do?"

As if in answer, Fenton heard the sound of sirens. His skin crawled as the sound screamed closer and closer.

That wasn't a police car; it was a fire engine –

Somebody's house was on fire. The detective knew it wasn't his but – rushing to the front door, Fenton quickly disabled the alarm and flung the door open – but the house across the street was ablaze.

Suddenly a trinket of information he'd read as an aside came back to haunt. _'Jason Watersmith, age six, died in a suspicious house fire. His father, while suspected, was never charged'_… and Fenton knew.

Nestor Watersmith was here.


	23. Chapter 23

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review this story. It has meant a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter as this story is almost finished :)

**Little Boy Lost**

**Chapter 23**

Laura was out of bed the moment she heard the wailing of sirens. It took her only a moment to realize it was a fire truck and even less time to know what it meant. Nestor had come for Joe.

"No," she whispered as she grabbed her housecoat and hastily tied it around her waist as she flung open the door –

And came face to face with the business end of a revolver.

Nestor was here.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

"Shit," Fenton cursed as he hurried back inside and locked the door. He might have just given the madman an opening. Fuming at himself, the detective quickly turned the alarm back on and then hurried towards the kitchen. It had a door leading into the back garden and was the other most obvious other entry point.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Canting his head, Watersmith briefly put a finger to his lips and then beckoned Laura into the hallway. _Where's Fenton?_ Her mind screamed as worry slammed somewhere between reason and fear. _How had Nestor gotten past him? _The man reached out and with cold fingers, grasped her by the arm and pulled her towards the two doors further down. _Oh God, the boys!_

She wanted to yell out a warning but knew he'd kill her in a heartbeat; after all that was what he'd traumatized into Joe, and the little tiny piece of rationality left told her she'd be no good to her sons, dead. So she played along for now and prayed for divine intervention, Fenton, or an opening even as she wondered how the hell he'd gotten in.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Joe smelled the smoke before he heard the sirens. His eyes wide, he sat up and then practically flung himself at his brother. "He's here," his whisper was harsh and frantic, "Daddy's here!"

…

Frank mumbled something under his breath about catfish and then bolted up as Joe's words sunk in. He paled. No, this was too soon – Frank wasn't ready yet. Sure he had Dad's plan, but…

"C'mon, Frank," Joe was halfway out of the bed now, tugging hard on Frank's arm, almost dislodging the older boy from the bed. "_He's here!_"

"Hey," Frank grumbled as he hurriedly detangled himself from his brother's grip and stood up. The cold floor made his toes curl in discomfort. He started to turn on the light but Joe batted his arm away.

"NO!" the blond boy shook his head, his every movement frantic and too fast. "He'll see! _He'll see!_"

Fear thrilled through Frank as sirens and flashing nights filled the dark bedroom – Joe was right. Nestor was here!

"Joey!" Frank barked harshly and grabbed his terrified sibling. "The tree!" Barely giving Joe a chance to acquiesce, the older boy was shoving him forward. "Get in the tree."

"What?" The disbelief on Joe's face as he glanced back at Frank might have been comical under other circumstances but then the blond boy braced his bare feet against the floor and refused to budge, bringing them both to an abrupt halt. He pushed hard against the window sill. "I can't climb the tree!"

Ignoring the protest, Frank unlocked the window and flung it open. Immediately the house alarm went off. "Out, Joe. _NOW_!"

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Fenton took the stairs, two at a time.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

As the alarm wailed, Nestor pushed Laura into Frank's room, the gun pressed hard into the small of her back.

Her heart pounded as she saw Joe disappear out the window with Frank right behind him –

"NO!" she screamed and tried to stop Watersmith as he lunged past her and grabbed Frank's ankle, yanking the boy back into the room and dropping him on the floor –

And then the gun was pressed against the struggling boy's forehead and everything else stopped.

…

Joe had never been so terrified in his life. Not bad enough Daddy was here to hurt his real family but now he was balanced precariously in the limbs of an old tree. A tree Joe hadn't climbed in over two years.

He thought Frank was behind him but when he dared a glance back, he almost fell out of the tree.

"No," he whimpered as he saw an enraged Daddy looking down at something at his feet and then Daddy looked up, caught Joe's eyes and smiled.

"Jason," the man's voice shivered through the little boy's soul. "It's time for you to come home."

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Fenton flattened himself against the wall outside Frank's room; his wife's scream a frightening echo in the back of his mind. One quick glance into the room made his stomach churn.

Laura, her back to him, was standing stock still in the middle of the room. Frank was on the floor, his back pressed against the wall under the window, Nestor's back blocked Fenton's view of the boy's face but the madman's posture left no doubts that he was holding a gun on Fenton's son. He didn't see Joe.

_Damn. Damn. Damn. _

The open window above Frank allowed Fenton a moment of hope that Joe, at least, was safe, but also frustrated that he couldn't take a clear shot of Nestor as Laura unintentionally blocked the way.

And then he heard Nestor talk –

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

"Don't make me repeat myself, Jason," Nestor growled loudly to be heard as he adjusted his grip on the gun. Frank swallowed hard, pure fear filling his veins. _He didn't want to die_. "You know much I hate repeating myself." Wide-eyed, the boy watched the man's finger tighten fractionally on the trigger and then he heard his brother's voice,

"I – I'm coming."

And thought he had been scared before.

…

Laura felt helpless. Even with Nestor's back to her, the gun pressing an indent into her son's forehead kept her from doing anything to him.

But as Joe started to climb back into the room, Laura knew she had to do something and then she was grabbed –

A hand over her mouth and strong arms around her waist pulled her out of the room and into the safety of the hallway.

Fenton.

The man quieted her and gestured towards the stairs where she could now hear someone pounding at the front door. The police. Nodding her understanding, Laura gave Fenton a quick hug and disappeared downstairs, trusting him to get her babies back.

The front door splintered open before she got there.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Joe's whole body trembled as he carefully climbed back into the room.

Nestor grabbed Frank by the front of his pajamas and hauled the boy to his feet as he let Joe drop to the floor. The child turned to face his abductor and tears trickled down his cheeks. "P-please, Daddy, let him go…."

The madman gave Frank a little shake. "You insolent pup," he yelled at Joe, "What did I tell you I'd do if they ever got you back? What?!"

Joe flinched. "Please…" he pleaded again. "Let him go." He forced himself to look Nestor's eyes. "I'll go with you."

…

Something feral ripped through Frank. This was NOT happening.

"No!" he yelled and then clamped down hard on the fist holding his shirt, with his teeth.

Nestor howled and slammed him roughly against the wall –

…

Fenton launched himself at Nestor. He pulled the man away from the boys as he wrestled for control of the gun.

"Boys – outta…here," he gasped out as he slammed the madman against the wall. Frank scrambled out of the way. Fenton couldn't see Joe and hoped the kid was already out.

Nestor lost his grip on the gun as the two men grappled and it fell to the floor. Fenton kicked it with his foot and sent it sliding towards the bed –

It was stopped by a bare foot.

…

Joe reached down and picked up the revolver.

It was heavier than it looked.

Straightening up, the child held the weapon between his two hands –

His hands shook. His whole body shook.

"I'm not going back," he whispered. A hot tear scorched his cheek. And then he was yelling. "Do you hear me, _Daddy_? I'm. _Not_. Going. Back!"

And he fired.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks to everyone who has read or reviewed this story. Sorry I haven't had a chance to reply to each and every one of you  Also, thank you to Red Hardy for the wonderful beta, and if you haven't checked out her stories, why not? She is a superb writer and never posts a story unless she has it already written!

Also, check out Cherylann Rivers! Her story Fire and Ice is wonderful… even if Nancy is in it it, lol!! You'll fall in love with the Hardys and their family and friends all over again! And another wonderful gal who never starts posting until the whole thing is written!

**Little Boy Lost**

**Chapter 24**

Joe cried out as the recoil knocked him back against the wall. The gun fell to the floor and he stared at it in shock. _Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. _Cold washed over him and he started to shake.

"_Dad!_" Frank shouted.

Horrified, Joe looked up.

He'd shot someone –

His father.

And then Nestor grabbed him.

…

Fenton felt the bullet's burn as it skimmed the side of his deltoid. Pain flared, hot, white; bloody.

Around him Frank shouted as Nestor shoved against the injury, his face a savage snarl as he ground his fingers into the detective's shoulder driving the man to his knees.

And then Nestor was gone and as Fenton shoved himself back to his feet using the wall for support, he froze. The madman had Joe.

…

Pain burned through Joe's wrist as he was hauled to his feet. Nestor wrapped his arm around his neck and pulled his body back against him.

Panicked he struggled against the man. "Stop it," Nestor growled, he squeezed his arm and breathing became impossible. Terrified, the little boy sought out his brother.

…

Frank had never been so terrified in his life. His heart pounded as he glanced between his injured father and his traumatized little brother unsure what to do for either of them, and still in disbelief that _Joe_ had shot their father. He knew it wasn't on purpose but…. still… his little brother had fired a gun. A real, actual live gun.

Cool.

'_No'_, he shook his head and mentally scolded himself. '_Not cool. Not cool at all.'_ And then Joe got an even more freaked out look on his face and started to claw at the arm wrapped around his throat. Frank tried to concentrate on what the man was saying but his whole focus was on his brother's increasingly bug-like look. Sudden comprehension shot his innocence. Nestor was killing Joe. Right in front of him.

"No!" Frank shouted and lunged at the man but his father managed to snag his arm and yank him back.

…

"Frank," Fenton warned, his eyes never leaving Watersmith. "Stay here." He pushed his protesting son behind him and growled, "Let Joey go."

"_Jason_," Nestor corrected smugly, the arm wrapped around the child's throat going from a choke-hold to a mocking hug, "is going to _go_… with me."

Joe gasped, his wide blue eyes bright with fear.

"Over my dead body," the detective vowed, his eyes locking hard onto the terrified ones. _Hang on, Joey… just hang on…_ Warm blood slid down his arm. Two police officers moved silently outside the doorway, the madman oblivious.

_Yes!_

Fenton felt his heart pound; he just had to get Joe away from Nestor.

"Why the hell do you even care?" Watersmith demanded angrily. "The ungrateful little brat just shot you." Fenton's anger grew with each word, smoldering dangerously as he watched Joe pale. "You don't _need_ him. I do. My wife does… You take your _good_ boy, have your perfect life and let me have this screw up -" He started to back towards the doorway.

Fenton waited; his body tense and ready. The gun in his shoulder holster loaded and ready. _C'mon. C'mon. Just a little more…_

"He's been mine for two years now," Nestor continued to taunt. The detective clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Watersmith was almost at the door now. "And he -"

A flash movement outside the door –

Nestor half-turned –

The gun was in Fenton's hand -

"Hey, Asshole!" he shouted. Waited for half a heart beat. Fenton wanted to see the look in Nestor's eyes just before he killed him.

Fenton fired.

…

Joe screamed as Nestor jerked back with the impact of the bullet and then dropped. He turned to look at his tormentor and was grabbed –

By his father.

…

Fenton grabbed the traumatized child and pulled him to his chest, sinking down to his knees as pain lanced through his arm. "Shhh…" he whispered, holding the shaking boy, refusing to let him look at the body as police milled around and somewhere down the hall, he heard his wife's voice, "It's okay, Joey, it's okay… you're okay… Daddy's got you… shhh…" Without turning, Fenton opened an arm and Frank snaked in next to him, his own body shaking almost as badly as his brother's.

"It's okay, boys, every things okay now…"

…

Frank sniffled, his own smaller arms joining Fenton's in wrapping around his brother. He listened to his father and added his own quieter murmuring. Anything to help calm Joey down, and maybe even himself…

He needed so badly to believe his father because this had scared him too much; he now understood his little brother's almost paralyzing fear of Nestor and it helped cement Frank's determination that no one was ever going to hurt Joey again. Not as long as he was around.

And then Laura was there too and Frank finally let himself relax. They were okay. They were all okay.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Laura refused to let her little boys go. As the police milled around and the coroner was called, she ushered her children into the large master bedroom and fussed over them, quickly wrapping Joe's injured wrist in a cold compress and barking out a request for a paramedic.

She cooed over Frank's bruises and placed a soft kiss on the top of Joe's head as he burrowed next to her and continued to sob softly.

Fenton stood in the doorway, a handkerchief pressed against his arm.

"Are you okay?" Laura asked as she checked Joe's swollen arm. "Are the paramedics here yet?"

The sound of an approaching siren answered her even as Fenton shook his head; his dark eyes fixed on the children. "Soon." He sighed tiredly and crossed the room.

Joe flinched and pressed in even more closely to her and Laura's heart ached for him knowing her baby blamed himself for shooting his own father.

"Hey," Fenton dropped down in front of Joe. Laura noticed how Frank stiffened and wrapped an arm around his slim shoulders giving him a quick squeeze; understanding his desire to protect the younger child. But he didn't need to worry about what his father was going to say as Laura already knew Fenton didn't blame Joe. Just the opposite. He was very proud of the little boy. "Joey? Son?"

The little boy still refused to look at him. Fenton sighed and glanced up at Laura. She gave him an encouraging nod.

"Joey, you know I'm not angry with you right?" Fenton tried again, "You know I'm pretty dang proud of you actually. You did what you had to do to protect yourself."

Laura knew Joey was listening even if the child wouldn't look at his father.

"Now I'm not crazy that you used a gun – I would have preferred if you were never in that situation to begin with… but I am proud that _you_ know that your life is important enough for you to defend yourself…" He looked at Frank. "That goes for the both of you. You boys are the most important things your mother and I have and we love you…" He glanced back at Joe, "And I can't really blame you for having sucky aim, now can I?" _Was that a glimmer of blue he saw?_ "Not when I haven't even taught you how to shoot yet," _yes it was_ – Joe lifted his head to look at Fenton and the man gave him an encouraging smile and whispered. "I love you, son."

And then Joe was throwing himself at his father, wrapping his small arms about Fenton; his heartfelt mantra of _I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry_ lost in the hiccups of his breath and Fenton closed his eyes. He let the handkerchief drop as he carefully disentangled himself from the desperate grip. Carefully he folded the child into him, dropped his cheek to rest on the little boy's head and waited for the paramedics to find them.

The child finally relaxed against him, his breath hot against Fenton's chest and the detective finally felt that he'd gotten his little lost boy, back.

Epilogue to follow…


	25. The Epilogue

_Thank you to everyone who has read and commented. Your words helped inspire me. And now, alas, this beast is done and I hope you enjoy the chapter. Love, Phoenix_

**Little Boy Lost**

**The Epilogue:**

_One Week later…_

Eight year old Biff Hooper was so excited he actually vibrated. Today he was going to see Joe Hardy for the first time in over two years and he just could not wait.

"Do you see them yet?" he asked his mother as she walked past the large picture window in the living room. He was already there with his nose pressed against the glass before she could answer. "I don't see them…" His brow puckered. "It's today, right? Joey is coming here today?"

Mrs. Hooper, a pleasant plump woman with snow blond hair and twinkling eyes smiled and shook her head. "Mr. Hardy said they'd be here around two-"

"Is it two yet?" Biff demanded impatiently, getting a reprimanding look from his mother, and ignoring it. "Is it?" His nose squished even further into the glass as he tried to see down the street. "I don't see them coming yet."

"Biff, honey, settle down-"

"They're here! They're here!" the blond boy suddenly burst out as he saw a large silver SUV turn the corner and pull up in front of his house. He was already out the front door and halfway down the walkway before the vehicle stopped.

"JOEY!" Biff hollered as he raced towards the truck, "FRANK!" He skidded to a stop, rocking back on his heels in his excitement.

Mr. Hardy and Frank got out first but he barely gave them a glance, his gaze trying to burn through the tinted window to see his sorely missed friend.

And then Joe was right there.

For one long moment the two boys just stared at each other. Biff almost didn't recognize his best friend in the thin, uncertain, pale looking kid standing quietly in front of him. But then he saw what Joe was clutching in his non-sprained hand and Biff's face lit up. "Holy crap -" he blushed, shot Joe's Dad a worried look, which the man met with a raised eyebrow, and quickly corrected, "I mean, cow… Holy _cow_, is that Pal?" Mr. Hardy nodded in approval.

The blond boy opened his hand and held it out. He smiled. "You want to play with her?"

"Her?" Biff frowned as he took the offered car and scrutinized it carefully. Although he knew that Frank had it, Biff hadn't actually seen the prized toy in a long time. "I thought it was a _him…_"

"It was," Frank interjected as he flanked his brother and then gave Joe a knowing look. "Until boy genius here pointed out it had no _rocket launcher_…" He gave Biff a significant look. It took Biff a moment to get the significance but when he did, his mouth opened in a wide O.

Behind them, it sounded like Mr. Hardy was choking on something.

Biff barely paid any attention as he grabbed Joe's good arm and started towing his best friend towards the house. Frank followed. "C'mon Joey," he chattered having no trouble knowing this boy now, "you _gotta _see my room -" he paused and looked back at the man watching them. At one time he had been afraid of Fenton – he was armed after all – but now, Joe's dad didn't look so scary… now he just looked kinda scared. "Don't worry Mr. Hardy, we'll take good care of him… I promise!"

The detective got a very weird look on his face and then gave a pained looking smile. Biff briefly wondered if the man had swallowed his tongue but then promptly forgot all about that two seconds later. He had a new transformer that Joe just had to see.

…

Watching his sons go with Biff was the hardest thing Fenton had ever done. He had to fight every impulse not to grab the boys, toss them back into the SUV, take them home and never let them out of his sight again. But he couldn't. Not if he wanted Joe to properly heal…

It was still hard.

Things had changed a lot in the last week. Some things were immediate and good, like Fenton's redemption in Joe's eyes, but other things were more gradual and heartbreaking, like trying to get the still skittish child used to the routine of an every day normal life. A life that included the outside world; a place Nestor Watersmith and his wife worked hard to keep Joe separated from to protect themselves. And it showed in many ways, from Joe's almost panic attack the first time they went to a store, to his reluctance to be alone and his need for physical comfort. It was as if the child had been starved for companionship and affection, and in every way, Fenton knew he had been.

It was nothing Fenton, Laura or Frank held against their little boy and they were only too eager to help him find his balance again, but if Joe ever stood any chance of truly getting past this, they had to also let him go. A little. In ways like this – his first trip, with Frank of course, as if anyone could keep the older boy away, to Biff's house for a playdate.

Baby steps. He kept reminding himself. Baby steps for them all.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

By the time the three boys got to Biff's room, Biff had forgotten all about the transformer he had wanted to show Joe, he had something else more important in mind.

"You guys have got to see this." Passing the toy car back to Joe, Biff got down on the floor and reached under his bed.

Joe sat down on the edge of his bed and watched.

"It's not another moldy sandwich is it?" Frank teased as he crouched down next to Biff and held up the end of the sheets for his friend.

Biff shot him an indignant glare. "Hey that was one _damn_ scary sandwich." He grinned as the two other boys stared at him in shock.

"You swore?" the reverence in Joe's voice had him beaming as he sat back on his knees and nodded.

"Yup. I've been practicing," he boasted.

"Why?" Frank demanded, obviously not as impressed by Biff's brashness as Joe was. But that was okay because Frank was only Biff's best friend; Joe was Biff's BEST friend. "It sounds stupid. Swearing is stupid." The nine year old rained on his parade.

"It makes me sound older," Biff defended, back to hunting under his bed again. He knew it was under here somewhere…

"Soap tastes bad, Biff," Joe's quiet admittance surprised Biff. There was experience in the tone that caught him off guard and he opened his mouth to ask Joe how he'd know but was stopped when Frank caught his eye and shook his head. The message was clear. Drop it.

Biff scowled back, not liking the brief flash of warning in the dark eyes that held his gaze but then sighed and dropped it. How had he ever forgotten what Frank, _the big brother_, was like? Then he sighed. Maybe his friends were right, now that Joe was back, swearing didn't seem such a big deal. In fact, it did kinda sound stupid…

And then he found what he was looking for.

"Aha," he cried out as he pulled out a large scrapbook. It was dusty and dog-eared but was just as important now as it had been then.

The Hardys watched him expectantly as Biff dropped the heavy book down on the bed next to Joe and then plopped down himself.

"Here," he said, his pale blue eyes smiling, "I made it for you."

Joe looked at him for a moment and then glanced back at Frank. The older boy gave a subtle shrug.

"It's not going to bite," Biff pushed the gift towards his friend.

A tentative smile was his reward as Joe reached out and touched the cover. He read the words written in Biff's childish scrawl, "My Best Friend," his voice sounded oddly thin. He looked up at Biff again but the other blond boy, impatient for the thing to be opened just waved at the book with his hands.

"C'mon already," he grumbled, "open it!"

And Joe did.

…

Inside the book were pictures, drawings. Each one a painstaking testimony of a friendship that had continued and grown during the time Joe was gone.

The pictures were each neatly labeled:

_Me and Joe at the park…_

_Me and Joe playing tag…_

_Me and Joe splashing Frank at the beach…_

_Frank chasing me and Joe._

It went on and on until the scrapbook was almost completely filled.

The last picture didn't have Biff in it. It was a family portrait, a tall dark haired man, a petit blond haired woman, and two boys, one dark, one light; simply labeled, _Joe is home with his family. _

Joe's vision blurred and something tightened in his chest. All the times when he had thought he was so alone, so unwanted, so unloved… Biff had been making this scrapbook. Remembering Joe when Joe couldn't remember himself…

A traitorous tear dropped onto the page.

And then he felt Frank standing beside him, the warmth of his leg pressed against Joe's, grounding him, supporting him, loving him.

"Thank you." He wasn't even sure Biff had heard him until his friend beamed widely and saved him from himself,

"Bet you didn't know I was such an awesome drawer, did ya?"

Joe laughed, and it felt good. _He_ felt good. Beside him, Frank groaned good-naturedly. "Great… We are never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

"Nope," Biff grinned. "Now if the girly stuff is over, let's get something to eat and watch a movie or something."

"Actually," Joe spoke up, "If you don't mind," he turned to Frank for reassurance, still not used to actually being allowed to ask. "Can we go outside to play?"

His brother and friend didn't even miss a beat…

"Outside works for me."

"Let's go!"

Joe Hardy smiled and followed his friend out of the room, his big brother barely a breath behind him. He paused and looked back at the scrapbook on the bed.

Frank waited wordlessly, a serious look on his face. _Enough of this_, thought Joe. He stuck out his tongue and then raced down the stairs, his brother hot on his heels.

It felt good to be back.

**The End**

**_I am going to start posting a story I am particularly pleased with called 'The Collector' and I hope you'll stick around and enjoy that one too! _**


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